Jace's Side of the Story
by KatFisch
Summary: City of Bones through our most beloved golden boy's eyes... City of Bones in Jace's POV.
1. Chapter 1

**My first fanfic! I hope you enjoy! And of course all the original ideas and characters go to the wonderful Miss Clare.**

Chapter 1

Ah, demon hunting once again. I still get a high from it. Just being able to slice the scourge of the earth to pieces excites me. And making them feel the pain they have brought from their dimension is what they deserve.

Alec, Izzy, and I were in Pandemonium, tracking down another bastard from hell.

The club was packed, as usual. Colored strobe lights and smoke roiled around the room. The dance floor was at max capacity with too many grinding bodies to count. Guys in dark jeans and leather jackets slid their hands up and over random half naked girls on the dance floor, pulling each other closer every second.

And to be honest, I felt a little left out.

Alec leaned over and whispered in my ear, "See the psycho drooling over Izzy?" I nodded. "There's our target."

I tapped Izzy's shoulder. She smiled, transforming into a sly predator. The demon couldn't resist, following her straight into the storage closet that read 'NO ADMITTANCE'.

Alec glanced at me as we both drew out our weapons. I quickly pushed the door open, not that I was afraid for Izzy, I knew she could handle it, but I wanted to begin the hunt.

When we opened the door, the demon was on the ground, tangled in Isabelle's golden whip. She laughed, tightening the rope. "He's all yours, boys." I smiled and grabbed it by the shoulders, smashing it against a concrete pillar.

"So are there any more with you?" I questioned, meeting its acid green eyes. I grimaced; they were sickening.

The blue dye must have already gotten through its rotten head, because it stupidly said, "Any other what?"

I smirked. "Come on now." I raised my arms, exposing the fresh runes. "You know what I am."

It hissed, glaring. "_Shadowhunter."_

Alec grinned, catching onto the game. "Got you."

I grinned like a lunatic as Izzy pulled tighter on the bond, cutting deeper into its wrists.

I folded my arms across my chest, pacing back and forth in front of our captive. "So", I began. "You still haven't told me if there are any other of your kind with you."

The demon scowled, "I don't know what you're talking about." I sighed, so it's going to play stupid then.

Alec cut in, sounding very exasperated, "He means other demons. You do know what a demon is, don't you?"

I slowly paced back and forth, "Demons are religiously defined as hell's denizens, the servants of Satan, but understood here, for the purposes of the Clave, to be any malevolent spirit whose origin is outside our own home dimension—"

Izzy sighed, "That's enough, Jace."

"Isabelle's right," agreed Alec, "Nobody here needs a lesson in semantics—or demonology."

I smirked, leaning toward the demon's sweat drenched face. "Isabelle and Alec think I talk too much. Do you think I talk too much?"

It turned its pale face away, momentarily silent. "I could give you information, I know where Valentine is."

I didn't believe it; I turned to Alec. "Valentine's in the ground, the thing's just toying with us."

Isabelle whipped her hair back. "Kill it, Jace, it's not going to tell us anything."

I raised my left hand, exposing the translucent blade of Sansanvi.

The demon gasped, trying to escape, only to have Isabelle pull tighter on its wrists. "Valentine is back! All the Infernal Worlds know it—I know it—I can tell you where he is—"

The blood boiled beneath my skin and I resisted the urge to crush its throat. "By the Angel, every time we capture one of you bastards, you claim you know where Valentine is." I took a breath. "Well, we know where he is too. He's in hell. And you," I spun the knife around to face its throat, "you can _join him there_."

"Stop!" A voice screamed, "You can't do this."

I was so taken aback that the knife slipped from my grasp, skidding on the floor. I looked at up at a short fiery haired mundie girl. I almost scoffed at what she was wearing. It was the most outcast apparel for a club: T-shirt, jeans, and bright green sneakers.

But as I drew my gaze upward and settled on her face, I noticed she was very pretty. Red hair fell around her shoulders in soft curls. And underneath the fiery flames was a soft pale face holding large emerald eyes that were staring straight at me.

Alec turned to look at the mundie then me. "What's this?"

I smirked, covering myself with a sarcasm. "It's a girl, surely you've seen girls before, Alec. Your sister, Isabelle is one."

I came closer to the girl. And the closer I got, the prettier she became. Her alarming height reminded me of a vicious sprite. Though she was really quite stunning; thick lashes framed her lively evergreen eyes, so clear that it felt as if she could see through me. A light layer of pale freckles dusted the top of her nose and stretched out along her cheekbones. The delicate angle of her cupid's bow were like small arrows, begging me to look. Her pink lips were turned down at the corners in an angry pout and I had the strangest urge to make her smile.

An image of me touching those lips flashed across my mind. _What _was wrong with me? She was just a mundie girl...

"A mundie girl," I half whispered. "And she can see us."

The girl frowned and pouted her lips again in that appealing way. "Of course I can see you, I'm not blind you know."

I smirked, thinking of how naïve she sounded. "Oh, but you are," I said as I retrieved my fallen knife. "You just don't know it." I stood up and met her gaze. "You'd better get out of here, if you know what's good for you."

And for some strange reason, I knew what she was going to say next.

"I'm not going anywhere, if I do you'll kill him." She pointed toward the demon.

"That's true," I said turning the knife in my hands. "What do you care if I kill him or not?"

The girl stuttered. "Be-because—, you can't just go around killing people."

So that's it, she was trying to be a hero, saving the lives of "innocent" citizens.

"You're right, you can't go around killing _people_." I pointed to the demon on the pillar. "That's not a person, little girl." I internally smirked, that just_ had _to bother her. "It may look like a person and talk like a person and maybe even bleed like a person, but it's a monster."

Isabelle warned, "_Jace_, that's enough."

She backed up, fright coloring her voice. "You're crazy, I've called the police, you know. They'll be here any second."

"She's lying." Alec said, but he sounded doubtful. "Jace, do you—"

Alec was interrupted by a high-pitched scream. I whirled around, but was too late.

The demon had broken free and slammed into my shoulder, knocking me to the ground. I raised my arm to protect my priceless face as it slashed wildly with razor sharp claws, drawing blood from my arm.

Alec and Isabelle ran to my aid, even though I could take perfect care of myself. Izzy whipped its back as it came at me again, making the demon screech.

Rolling over, I picked up my blade, stabbing into the demon's chest. Black blood dripped beneath the hilt of the knife. I frowned; my shirt was now darker than before with the black liquid. I leaned down to rip the blade from the demon's chest.

It convulsed and glared at me. "_So be it. The Forsaken will take you all._"

I growled in response as its body disappeared.

Alec rushed to my side, immediately checking to see if I was hurt. Always looking out for others.

I heard a gasp of pain and turned to see Isabelle holding the girl in the grasp of her golden whip. I had completely forgotten she was here, that she could_ see_ us.

She scowled, tugging at Izzy's snare. Like a kitten stuck in the claws of a tigress.

Isabelle hissed, "Stupid little mundie, you could have gotten Jace killed."

The girl pulled again, looking at me accusingly. "He's crazy, you're all crazy. What do you think you are, vigilante killers? The police—"

Holding my arm, I stepped over the wires and cables to her, Alec close behind me. "The police aren't usually interested unless you can produce a body."

She bit down on the side of her lip, making it red. Her cheeks were tinged pink and long lashes shadowed her wide green eyes. Once again her beauty struck me.

She looked past me to the place on the floor where the demon was moments ago.

"They return to their home dimensions when they die," I said, the words tumbling off of my tongue. "In case you were wondering."

"Jace," Alec warned. "Be careful."

I furrowed my brow, confused again. "She can see us, Alec, she already knows too much."

Izzy frowned and glanced at her nails. "So what do you want me to do with her?"

"Let her go." Izzy looked at me as if I was insane, but didn't argue.

The girl rubbed her wrist, slowly backing away.

"Maybe we should bring her back with us," said Alec. Hearing that I felt a flourish of hope and excitement, but I buried such frivolous thoughts. "I bet Hodge would like to talk to her."

Isabelle sharply snapped back. "No way are we bringing her to the Institute, she's a mundie."

"Or is she?" I quietly questioned, looking at her more closely. "Have you had dealings with demons, little girl? Walked with warlocks, talked with the Night Children?" Maybe that would explain this hold she had over me. "Have you—"

She cut me off. "My name is not 'little girl' and I have no idea what you're talking about." _Really?_ "I don't believe in—in demons, or whatever you—"

"Clary?" The name came from nowhere.

So that was this girl's name. Pretty, it fit her well.

A tall, mis proportioned mundie stood in the doorway with an annoyed looking bouncer at his side. He squinted at Clary in the dark, looking for something. _Good, he couldn't see us._

"Are you okay?" His voice was soft, too soft. "Why are you in here by yourself? What happened to the guys—you know, the ones with the knives?"

Clary turned, confused as to why they couldn't see us. I smirked and shrugged in reply.

She turned back around, and I almost felt sorry for her.

Her excuse nearly made me laugh. "I thought they went in here… But I guess they didn't, I'm sorry."

The kid's face grew red and he turned to the bouncer, not looking him in the eyes, "It was a mistake."

The bouncer grunted and muttered, "Stupid kids."

Izzy giggled as she climbed through the window and onto the street. With one last look at the girlI leaped through the window.

~oOo~

Once we were on the street, Alec and Izzy began arguing.

"She must be a downworlder."

"No downworlder would be so shocked at us killing a demon. Besides, there were no obvious signs."

I winked at her, "Not that we could see."

She glared at the sky.

"Izzy, we should tell Hodge-"

_Clary, Clary, _I liked the way her name rolled in my mind. I wished I could say it out loud…

"What did you think of Clary?"

Alec sputtered mid sentence. Izzy raised a dark brow, but they continued to walk.

I stopped, waiting for an answer.

Izzy planted her foot on the ground and placed her hands on each hip. "Should I care?"

Alec turned back midstep. I looked at him expectantly. "Why?" He stared at me dumbfounded.

"Clary's a mundane who can see us, isn't that fascinating?" I could feel the amused gleam in my eye.

She crossed her arms, "No."

Alec ran a hand through his hair, "Why did you let her go? She's a threat now Jace."

I scoffed. "Clary? A threat?"

He grimaced, "She may not look like much, but she could still cause trouble. Mundie or not." He glanced at Izzy.

I shook my head and began walking.

"Jace!" Alec easily matched his strides to mine.

"How is she a threat?"

Izzy pulled up to the other side so I was now caught in between them.

He began with a reasoning tone. "She can't be trusted Jace." I rolled my eyes. He hissed, "We don't know what she is."

I genuinely laughed. "If she's a mundie she will be locked up and if she's a downworlder, who cares, just enforcing the law."

Izzy sighed dramatically. "Leave it alone. She's a burden we don't need."

"Hodge deserves to know! There hasn't been a mundie who's had the sight for a thousand years."

I snickered, "She's a mundie now?"

His eyes narrowed. "I don't know anymore than you, that's why we should have brought her to Hodge."

I smirked, knowing it would anger him. "Are you implying we should have kidnapped her?"

He frowned. "I'll tell Hodge. I'll tell him you let her go without questioning-"

"I questioned and she didnt know-"

Alec continued, "Without _proper _questioning."

"Both of you, shut up." Izzy yawned, "Hodge will hear you out here." She began climbing the front steps.

The institute loomed before us. Both inviting and forboding.

I shrugged, my resolve spent, he would tell either way. "Why would I care what you tell Hodge about the mundie?"

"Jace-"

I turned and started up the grand stairs.

~oOo~

I settled uneasily on my bed.

How could this girl drive _me_, Jace Lightwood, nearly insane with curiosity? She couldn't be human. I do admit that I have fallen under the influence of a few attractive downworlders before. But never to this extent... There weren't any obvious signs of dark heritage though, other than her being not much taller than a sprite. I smirked, she was so fierce and innocent. Her bright green eyes widened with fear and her nose wrinkled in disgust as I extracted the blade from the demon.

I smirked, the memory of her was a fresh wound in my mind, I wasn't forgetting her scar anytime soon.

**Well there is the first chapter. Thanks for reading. Reviews will be greatly appreciated!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Credit goes to Miss Clare, but you know that...**

Chapter 2

I woke up to the sun searing my face. I put my arm across my eyes, not ready to start the day. But I sighed, knowing I would have to anyway. As I rolled out of bed, I stumbled blindly to the bathroom.

All night I saw Clary, from her fierce personality to her amazing emerald eyes. And by the Angel did I like it. I groaned, leaning over the sink.

It was pathetic. Jace Wayland does not, and _will not_, pine away over some mundie girl. I turned on the cold water and splashed a handful onto my face, viciously scrubbing her pretty memory away.

I straightened to look at my reflection in the mirror.

I was a tall, handsome, no, gorgeous, man. I had it all, the looks, a family, a home, and the best damn job around, _Shadowhunter_. Yet the longer I stared, the emptier I felt. I have noticed girls and they have certainly noticed me, when I wanted them to. Flirting was a constant pastime in my life, I would find a few good ones sometimes. Ones that seemed decent at first, but end up only wanting more. Dating. That's the term mundies used. Never have I found someone worth such 'attention'. Then I imagined Clary standing by my side, her small body enclosed between my arms.

I groaned again and hung my head against the wall. Fine, so that's how going to be then, huh, Clary? I knew it wasn't her fault, but it felt nice to blame her, she was the one after all that was too cute for her own good.

~oOo~

After I showered and dressed, I ventured out of my room. The Institute seemed unusually quiet. Most mornings Max would be playing in the hallways, fighting invisible demons or reading on the ancient furniture. He made the Institute feel warmer, younger. I heard Izzy humming in the kitchen, hitting pots and pans and Angel knows what else together.

Now if I could just turn the other way… I feared Izzy's cooking more than any demon.

"Oh Jacey!" _Shit_, she caught me; maybe I could make a run for it, but she would most likely catch me by the ankle with her whip and _drag_ me in.

I surrendered, walking into the kitchen with my usual cocky gaunt. Even in the morning she was dressed in all over black hunting gear. Her whip hung menacingly from her wrist. "Hey, _Isssabelle_."

She grimaced. A very, _exotic, _starving artist ex-boyfriend of hers used to exaggerate the 's' in her name.

I sat down on a chair by the counter, feeling defeated. "So what atrocity are you creating this morning?" The table was crowded with bowls, spoons, and pans, while a thick layer of flour dusted everything.

"I'm making pancakes." She ignored my insult and went back to humming and flipped a page in her magazine.

Behind her, dark smoke had began to spiral up to the ceiling. I smirked and cleared my throat. "You sure about that?"

Izzy looked suspicious, but slowly turned around. She gasped in horror, running to turn off the stove. When she looked at me she was fuming.

"Here, I made this one special for you." With that she whipped her hand out from behind her back and threw a burnt crisp of a pancake at my head.

I ducked and it hit the wall with a thud, leaving a black streak.

She pouted and crossed her arms over her chest, muttering to herself, "I did everything the recipe said."

I smiled and muttered back, "except pay attention."

She growled quietly, "shut up."

I replaced my smile with a calculating frown and shook my head, "nope, can't do that." Then added with a wink, "not even for _you_."

Her eyes narrowed to dark slits, she was ready to walk over and hit me now. Alec walked through the door, interrupting her little tirade.

Izzy's mood changed drastically as she said in a high singsong voice, "Good morning, Alec!"

He looked startled with his hair in disarray and eyes bright with questions. "Uh, good morning to you too Iz." He looked to me then the table, which was still covered in a wide array of cooking utensils.

He turned green, "I see you made breakfast."

"Uhuh." She turned around with a full plate of 'pancakes' and set them in his thin hands. His eyes widened at the horrid black lumps. She smiled and batted her eyelashes at him, begging for approval. Alec looked to me for help, but I only smiled and shook my head.

As I walked out I heard Izzy whine, "Oh come on Alec, don't be mean, just put some extra syrup on to cover up the_ smoky flavor_."

I laughed and ran upstairs to the training room.

~oOo~

The training room was located on the top level of the Institute. It was by far the biggest room here. Every inch of the hardwood floor was covered in foam mats. Punching bags hung from every corner of the room. Rows of rusted metal shelves held training staves, dull daggers, swords, and an array of padded leather gear. I breathed in the sweet smell of sweat and mildew took my senses. I growled as I pulled my shirt over my head. Training always made me feel better, it kept my thoughts in check, which I needed a lot recently. I could hit, kick, and eventually slaughter a punching bag in less than a hour.

Today I was not in the right mood. It took me four hours to knock a bag off its chain.

And all because my mind kept wandering from the task at hand. Wandering off to _Clary_ and wondering if I would see her again. An interesting question crossed my mind, who was that kid with her? Was she _with _that guy? _No I don't care, why should I care? _

I jumped around the bag, lunging and dodging imaginary hits. As I punched harder, a drop of sweat landed on my shoulder. _I don't care._

My heel smacked the bag, releasing bits of white fluff from the side. _I don't care._

As I raised my fist for the next punch, I saw the kid's pinched face. I smashed my fist into his forehead and split a knuckle in the process. _By the Angel. _The bag was split in two and hung on the chain by its bare threads. But I didn't feel the victory, sinking to the floor I hung my head in defeat. I hadn't the slightest idea why, I just knew that I cared. For her. I wanted to know every detail about her. From her friends to who had named her Clary. I leaped off the ground, dragging bits of fluff behind me.

There was knock and the door opened. Alec stepped in, looking paler than usual.

I smirked; I bet he ate Izzy's pancakes. "How are you doing Alec?"

He visibly swallowed. "Not well."

I clicked my tongue and shook head. "You should have made a run for it, while you still had the chance." I leaned down to gather the pieces of cotton scattered across the floor.

He raised an eyebrow at me. "Good training session?"

"Spectacular," I grinned.

Frowning, he changed the subject, "Iz is telling Hodge about last night."

_Clary_. I stood up, but only shrugged.

I turned and proceeded to clean again, but I could feel Alec's stiff gaze on me.

His voice lowered, "How do you think she could see us?"

I didn't turn around. "Maybe she made a deal with the Fair Folk."

"Seems unlikely," he said with little doubt in his voice.

Turning from the bag to face Alec I said, "You're right." He looked momentarily shocked, it was rare when I said someone else was right. "She didn't seem to know anything."

The click of heels made me glance at the door.

Izzy stepped in, glaring in my direction. "Hodge wants you two." And with a final click she added, "Now."

~oOo~

When we reached Hodge's study, the library, he was sitting at his desk. Hugo perched on his shoulder like a gargoyle, his black eyes accusing.

He didn't look up as we entered. I cleared my throat.

Hodge looked up while he folded his hands on top of the desk, not rushing to speak. "Isabelle brought an interesting fact to light for me today." He paused and looked between Alec and I. "Apparently a mundane saw through your glamour, is that true, Jace?"

His eyes pinned me. I hated when Hodge would target me, like I was the only one in the wrong. _But I am. _I nodded, not wanting upset Hodge further.

He frowned, making the lines around his mouth darken. "Why in the world you let this girl go, I cannot understand." Izzy looked away. "A hundred years and not one mundane has the Sight, but the night one does, you fail to remit such a _small _detail." He stood, turned to the window and began smoothing Hugo's ruffled feathers.

With his back still to us, he muttered, "I do not understand how this girl could see through your glamour." He turned with his hands behind his back and now spoke directly to us. "This girl could be a threat," I resisted the urge to scoff, "I want you to find her and bring her here, then I may speak to her."

My mouth fell slightly open. I couldn't believe it we were going to bring her here. No, _I_ was going to bring Clary, _alone_.

I smirked, "Hodge, we don't _all _need to go. I'll find her, alone."

Hodge stared at me. His dark eyes narrowed in thought. After a few moments he spoke. "Take all necessary weapons with you." I began to leave, then said, "I doubt she will be any sort of threat."

Hodge's tone dismissed me immediately. "I will be the judge of that."

Alec and Izzy's shock was still apparent in their expressions.

When I left library I heard the door close and felt a light tap on my shoulder. Alec's blue eyes said he felt betrayed.

"Jace, we're parabatai, it's my responsibility to go with you."

I sighed, I didn't want to hurt Alec. "I'm sorry, but I can do this alone."

He protested, "But what if you get hurt, what if you can't heal yourself?"

I smirked, making a gesture to myself. "Come on, look who you're talking to."

I turned to walk away when I heard Alec mutter childishly under his breath, "You like her, don't you?"

I almost tripped, but kept walking, pretending not to hear him as I ventured to the weapons room.

Here and there I grabbed weapons, not paying much attention to what they were. I was still stunned at Alec's statement. I wasn't angry with him, because it was true, I did like her. Clary was very pretty, other than that I didn't know much else.

But how could he tell? Was it that obvious that I found her attractive?

I sighed and shook my head as I covered myself in multiple runes. I took the elevator downstairs and jogged out the Institute's front door, ready to find the one girl that had plagued my every thought.

**Thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

**I just couldn't stop writing! So here is another chapter.**

Chapter 3

New York City is an _extremely_ crowded city and finding one person in particular is hell.

I had to find Clary though, wherever she was. So why not start where I met her?

During the day Pandemonium looked like a run down warehouse. Trash and bits of glass littered the floor while the dance floor had a few stray articles of clothing on it. I smirked, looks like someone got lucky last night.

No one was here, obviously, but I had to start somewhere. I could track her, if I had something of her possession. But I didn't, I groaned and stormed out of the dead club.

_Damn it, Clary, where are you? _I walked aimlessly up around a few blocks, passing by bars, restaurants, and coffee shops. I guess the Angel had decided to bless me today, because when I walked by a run down coffee shop called Java Jones, I saw her. I couldn't believe my eyes, but when I looked closer and saw the flames of her red hair.

When I walked in I scowled, the kid with the glasses was sitting by her. And their discussion sounded slightly interesting.

"Not that, it's about what we were talking about before. About me not having a girlfriend." He looked nervous.

Oh, this should be good. I sat down on an old green loveseat five feet away. Close enough to hear above the kid with pink hair going on about loins, but far enough that she didn't notice me, yet.

"Oh." Clary lifted her shoulders in a casual gesture. "Oh, I don't know. Ask Jaida Jones out. She's nice, and she likes you."

I almost laughed at the thought of any girl liking this kid.

He paled. "I don't want to ask Jaida Jones out."

Clary curiously asked, "why not?" Then smirked, "you don't like smart girls? Still seeking a _rockin' bod?_"

"Neither," he said, looking a bit green. "I don't want to ask her out because it wouldn't really be fair to her if I did…"

He stopped and Clary leaned forward. Why did she lean forward, does she _want_ to get closer to the kid?

"Why not?" She whispered.

"Because I like someone else." So that's it then, this kid liked Clary. I felt a strange tinge of… was that _jealousy? _Because what if _she _likedthis kid? I brushed it off.

"Okay." Clary tried to raise an eyebrow and failed, it was cute. "You're not gay, are you?"

I swallowed my laughter.

His face darkened to a sickly green. "If I were, I would dress better."

"So, who is it, then?" She was clueless.

I couldn't help but laugh. Could she not see the obvious admiration this moron had for her? I failed to cover it with a cough.

She turned, her gaze stopping on me. She was too cute; her face formed a defensive scowl while her pink lips pouted. But her green eyes had the same disconcerting effect as last time. I felt her gaze pierce through my cocky façade, to the adoration I had for her inside. I jumped uncomfortably in my seat.

"What is it?" The kid questioned, trying to get Clary's attention.

Time to play, I smiled and raised my hand in a casual gesture. I stood and walked out the door, betting 100 to 1 she would follow.

As I opened the door I heard her call, "I'll be right back."

I was leaning against a wall, checking my sensor, when the door banged open. It was her. I smiled internally, I knew she would follow; curiosity seemed to get the best of her.

"Your friend's poetry is terrible," I said, knowing I had caught her off guard.

She blinked, "What?"

"I said his poetry was terrible. It sounds like he ate a dictionary and started vomiting up words at random."

She frowned, "I don't care about Eric's poetry. I want to know why you're following me."

I threw back a lie, "who said I was following you?"

"_Nice _try," she said. "And you were eavesdropping, too. Do you want to tell me what this is about, or should I just call the police?"

Smirking, I said, "and tell them what? That invisible people are bothering you? Trust me, little girl, the police aren't going to arrest someone they can't see."

I had struck a nerve, "I told you before, my name is not little girl, it's Clary."

"I know. Pretty name," _very pretty_. "Like the herb, clary sage. In the old days people thought eating the seeds would let you see the Fair Folk. Did you know that?"

She looked stunned. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

_Of course you don't_, I thought. "You don't know much, do you? You seem to be a mundane like any other mundane, yet you can see me. It's a conundrum."

"What's a mundane?"

"Someone of the human world." Words just stumbled out. "Someone like you."

"But _you're_ human," she said.

"I am, but I'm not like you." It was partly true; I was half human too.

She scowled accusing me, "you think you're better. That's why you were laughing at us."

I smiled, yes and no. "I was laughing at you because declarations of love amuse me, especially when unrequited. And because your Simon," _what an awful name,_ "is one of the most mundane mundanes I've ever encountered. And because Hodge thought you might be dangerous, but if you are, you certainly don't know it."

"_I'm _dangerous?" She sounded genuinely shocked. "I saw you kill someone last night." _Not someone, something._ "I saw you drive a knife up under his ribs, and—"

"I may be a killer, but I know what I am. Can you say the same?" _How will she respond to that?_

"I'm an ordinary human being," _you're not ordinary. _"Just like you said. Who's Hodge?"

"My tutor," I answered without pause. "And I wouldn't be so quick to brand myself as ordinary, if I were you." I leaned closer, meeting her emerald eyes. "Let me see your right hand."

She sounded suspicious as she echoed, "my right hand?" I nodded. "If I show my right hand, will you leave me alone?"

I smirked, _are you serious?_ "Certainly." I gently took her small hand in mine; searching for any clues of why she could see us, _see me._ My conscious mind drifted away. I imagined those smooth, warm hands tangled in my hair, holding my face, traveling the length of my chest...

_Knock it off, no time fantasize now. _I concentrated on finding the mark, ignoring the lovely fantasy tugging at the dark corners of my mind.

"Nothing," I felt a little disappointed, and then I had a surge of hope. "You're not left-handed, are you?"

"No. Why?" _Damn, I would have liked to train her. _It was a short lived fantasy. I let go of her hand with a shrug.

"Most Shadowhunter children get Marked on their right hands—or left, if they're left-handed like I am—when they're still young. It's a permanent rune that lends an extra skills with weapons." I held my left hand out to prove my point.

She immediately frowned at my hand. "I don't see anything."

"Let your mind relax," I coaxed. "Wait for it to come to you. Like waiting for something to rise to the surface of water."

She snapped at me, "you're crazy." Then gasped and I knew she saw it. "A tattoo?"

I felt, what did I feel, proud? I taught her something, yes, I was proud. "I thought you could do it. And it's not a tattoo—it's a Mark. They're runes, burned into our skin."

"They make you handle weapons better?" She seemed doubtful.

"Different marks do different things. Some are permanent but the majority vanish when they've been used."

"That's why your arms aren't all inked up today?" I smiled; she was catching on. "Even when I concentrate?"

"That's exactly why. I knew you had the Sight, at least." I looked to the sky, it was getting dark and I didn't want Hodge to send Alec and Izzy after me. "It's nearly full dark. We should go."

"_We?_" She sounded horrified, that's a hit on my ego. "I thought you were going to leave me alone."

I smiled, feeling slightly guilty. "I lied. Hodge said I have to bring you to the Institute with me. He wants to talk to you."

"Why would he want to talk to me?" She was standing with her hands on her small hips, looking defiant.

"Because you know the truth now, there hasn't been a mundane who knew about us for at least a hundred years."

"About _us_?" She asked, continuing. "You mean people like you. People who believe in demons."

_There's a big difference between superstitious mundies and Shadowhunters._ "People who kill them. We're called Shadowhunters. At least, that's what we call ourselves. The Downworlders have less complimentary names for us."

"Downworlders?"

"The Night Children. Warlocks. The fey. The magical folk of this dimension." I was rambling.

"Don't stop there. I suppose there are also, what vampires and werewolves and zombies?" Now she was just mocking me.

"Of course there are," I smiled, too glad to be part in her presence again. "Although you mostly find zombies farther south, where the _voudun_ priests are."

She tilted her head to the side, evergreen eyes trained on me. "What about mummies? Do they only hang around Egypt?"

I scoffed at her questions. "Don't be ridiculous. No one believes in mummies."

Clary shook her head, making her red curls fall over her shoulder. "They don't?"

"Of course not." I sighed, knowing this couldn't last. "Look, Hodge will explain all this to you when you see him."

She crossed her arms across her small chest. "What if I don't want to see him?"

I smiled smugly, briefly imagining sweeping her up on my shoulder and carrying her off to the Institute. "That's your problem. You can come either willingly or unwillingly."

Her mouth opened slightly as she realized what I was implying. "Are you threatening to _kidnap_ me?"

"If you want to look at it that way," I paused, "yes."

She glared at me when a buzzing noise sounded. It seemed to grow louder and more insistent every second; it was annoying to say the least.

"Go ahead and answer that if you like," I said. With her back to me she answered her phone.

"Mom?" she asked, sounding exasperated.

I couldn't hear her mother's exact words, but it sounded along the lines of "Clary, thank God."

She sighed. "It's all right, Mom. I'm fine. I'm on my way home—" _No you're not._

There was a loud, "_no_!" on the other side of the line. Then a harsh thump sounded. What was _that_?

Clary yelled into the phone. "Mom! Mom, are you all right?"

What the hell was going on? Her mother spoke again, "go to Simon's and call Luke—tell him that he's found me—"

"_Who's_ found you? Mom, did you call the police? Did you—" I was genuinely concerned now.

Her mother quietly replied, "I love you, Clary."

"_Mom_!" Then she quietly whispered, "Mom, are you there?"

I couldn't take it, I wanted to comfort her, but didn't know how. "Clary?" It was the first time I had said her name out loud, it sounded perfect. "What's going on?"

She ignored me, dialing the same number again, I assumed. Her hands began to shake and the phone hit the pavement, leaving a long crack in the side. She knelt down, trying to salvage it.

"Dammit!" Her green eyes glistened. Still on the ground she grasped the few broken pieces and threw them against the pavement.

_I can't help you, Clary, if you won't tell me what happened. _I leaned down and pulled her to her feet.

"Stop that," I softly ordered, holding her wrist. "Has something happened?"

She grabbed at my shirt, avoiding my gaze. "Give me your phone. I have to—"

I didn't stop her as she took my Sensor. "It's not a phone. It's a Sensor. You won't be able to use it."

"But I need to call the police!" She yelled, her voice breaking like glass.

I wanted to hold her close, "Tell me what happened first." She tugged at her wrist, but I only tightened my grip. "I can _help_ you."

Finally she looked up, and I melted. Her lovely eyes glistened with the promise of tears, her nose was red with anger, and her bottom lip was caught between her teeth. I itched to stroke her pretty face.

I was stunned by her beauty. She was livid. A second later she ripped her hand across my face. I stepped back, dropping her wrist more in surprise than pain. _She hit me, _I realized, gingerly holding the side of my cheek. Before I could move, she was running past me down the street.

_Damn it, Clary, how do you keep me running after you?_

Nevertheless, I took off down the same street she went.

**Thanks again! Reviews are greatly appreciated!**


	4. Chapter 4

**I am so sorry for having to make you wait. But thank you for reading and being patient!**

Chapter 4

The night was warm and sprinting through the streets wasn't improving the temperature. Clary was _fast_, a lot faster than I gave her credit for. I had lost sight of her about twenty minutes ago. _She had a head start, _I grinned. A red brick building came into view and I latched onto the rusted ladder on the wall. The black rungs of the ladder stained my hands black. I grasped the last rung then kicked off the ladder to reach the ledge. The roof crunched beneath my feet as I gained speed to jump the next rooftop. Where was the fun in a chase if I didn't leap over a few buildings? For a second I flew. As childish as flying sounds, I couldn't help but laugh in ecstasy. Once again glamour runes had saved my ass. I landed in a clean crouch, legs bent, arms in. I stood and began to run once again. The tangy air above the city streets tasted of salt and gasoline. I filled my lungs, it was invigorating. Cool wind tore across my scalp, pumping adrenaline through my veins. As I prepared for a jump over an alleyway, I caught sight red flames below. _Clary. _I jumped down, landing precisley on my feet with a dense thud. I grinned, if only Clary witnessed _that. _I looked around, she was gone. _Damn it. _As I tore through the streets I narrowly avoided being hit by various cars. I cut the next corner and caught her entering a decayed apartment building. The short two stories looked antique, old-fashioned shutters and paint chipping along the borders. It reminded me of the Institute, in a way.

I slowed my pace as I approached the apartments. I reached for my sensor, but paused, remembering Clary took it. "Damn."

The rusted front door was unlocked and I easily slipped in.

A light chanting was coming from a door to the left; it was cracked slightly, splaying a golden slivers of light. I stepped closer, peering inside. An old woman wearing an auburn turban and maroon robes was squeezed into a chair beside a low table. Her idle hands drew lines around a glass orb, muttering nonsense. I smirked, a typical mundie.

The smell of putrid rot wafted through the hall. I frowned, _demon stench? Upstairs. _The staircase was a bleak, narrow row of stairs. I eagerly mounted the wooden steps. They creaked and groaned beneath my hurried feet. The smell was stronger upstairs. The first door in the hallway was slightly ajar. I would have continued on if it had not been for the potency of demon stank.

As I shouldered the door open, I whipped out one of my dear Sanvi and whispered its name. My spine rippled with excitement. _Demons._

I quickly surveryed the room. The air caught in my throat when I saw the floor. A Ravener demon twitched on the ground. It was lying on something, that something was Clary.

"Clary?" I whispered.

I spanned the room and knelt down beside her. I grasped her thin wrist, feeling a faint pulse and exhaled. She was alive. I threw the demon off her small body and watched it disappear to hell. I carefully held up her head and felt something at the back of her neck. Leaning over, I inspected her neck. A small, but prominent wound trickled red across the floor.

Her warm breath tickled my ear, reassuring me. I breathed again. _Why was a demon in Clary's apartment? Why was a dead demon in her apartment? Did she kill it? _I stared at her pretty face, imagining her lunging at the demon._ She must have. It's the only reasonable explanation…_

I cradled her small form to my chest, careful of the gash on her neck. She was so light, so warm. Shaking my head I ran out of the apartment to the fresh air outside.

~oOo~

Once outside the building, I laid Clary down on the damp grass behind a rosebush and began tearing strips of my shirt to pieces. The early moonlight cast sharp shadows across the features of her face, making her look older. Angles of her face were cut in dark, straight lines. Her eerily still form was unnerving. _By the Angel, what if she doesn't wake? _I glanced at her neck again. The wound was small, but fresh blood persisted to gush from it, dripping into the grass below. The Ravener's poison worked fast, yellow puss oozed around her neck. _She needs Hodge. He could help her. _

Clary gagged and her eyes flew open.

"Don't move," I ordered harshly.

Clary turned her head to the side and coughed, grabbing handfuls of dirt.

"I told you not to move," I hissed. "That Ravener demon got you in the back of the neck. It was half-dead so it wasn't much of a sting, but we have to get you to the Institute. Hold still," I ordered again.

"That thing—the monster—it _talked._" She shivered either from the cold or the memory.

"You've heard a demon talk before." I gently tied a piece of cloth with an herbal salve on the back of her neck.

"The demon in Pandemonium—it looked like a person."

I answered her in a clipped tone. "It was an Eidolon demon. A shape-changer. Raveners look like they look. Not very attractive, but they're too stupid to care."

"It said it was going to eat me." I sighed, _I had a lot to teach her._

"But it didn't. You killed it." A surge of pride overwhelmed me.

She sat up and croaked, "the police are here, we should—"

I cut her off, she needed to stop straining herself. "There's nothing they can do. Somebody probably heard you screaming and reported it. Ten to one those aren't real police officers. Demons have a way of hiding their tracks."

"My mom," she whispered.

She needed Hodge _now_ and she wasn't helping. "There's Ravener poison coursing through your veins _right now._ You'll be dead in an hour if you don't come with me." I stood, offering her my hand; she took it and I pulled her up. "Come on."

Clary stood, and wobbled ever so slightly. I slid my arm behind her back, catching her before she fell. "Can you walk?"

"I think so," I reluctantly let go. She gasped as she saw the demon's skeletal hand. "Her hand—"

"I told you they might be demons." I looked back to apartments, calculating the quickest route back to the Institute. "We have to get out of here. Can we go through the alley?"

Clary shook her head. "It's bricked up. There's no way—" She lifted her hand and coughed, it came away spotted with blood. She only whimpered.

Too panicked to properly think about the consequences, I had taken hold of her and carved a _mendelin_ rune on the pale skin of her inner wrist.

She inspected the rune. "What's that supposed to do?"

"It'll hide you, temporarily," _if you live_. She had a grimaced as I tucked my stele back into my belt. "My stele."

She didn't ask any further questions and that worried me. Instead she was staring intently at the ground beneath her, swaying to the side.

I caught her as she folded over, gently lifting her into my arms again. Lowering my head to hers I whispered, "I swear on the Covenant you will live."

Her head fell back and her eyes glazed over, my time was running out.

~oOo~

I rushed through the streets of New York as fast as I possibly could. I scowled, why did the Institute have to be so far away? I wasn't tired, just anxious, for the girl I held close.

Clary's wound was not improving, blood quickly trickled down the arm that was holding her neck. I thanked the Angel when I saw the Institute's ancient cathedral spiral looming over the city.

I awkwardly moved Clary's unconscious body to lean against my side as I opened the Institute door. She would have been amazed to see how we unlocked it.

When the doors opened I carefully cradled her back into my arms and sprinted to the elevator. I may have been punching the _'up'_ arrow to hard, but at that moment I couldn't care less.

I heard a prominent _'plop'_ on the ground. I looked to the gash on Clary's neck, blood was heavily streaming from it. I tightened my hands on her as the rest of me threatened to fall apart. I tipped my head to hers.

I barely heard myself as I breathed, "please don't leave me Clary."

A few moments later I raised my head, the elevator's brass doors rumbled open and I ran in.

She needed help, _now._ I hit the 'up' button so hard that a tiny crack appeared. I growled at it.

We stopped with a final _'ding'_. I ran out, looking for anyone. Without thinking I yelled, "Alec, Izzy!"

Nothing.

I sank to the floor over Clary's small body. My eyes stung as I heard the very silent beating of her heart.

"Alec! Isabelle!" Then added, "Hodge!"

The shuffling of feet and irritated voice said, "Jace if you woke me up because you _scored _it with a fairy, I will personally rip your…" She gasped as she came closer to see Clary's blood-covered form. "Jace."

I sighed, "Get Hodge." She was still gaping at Clary. "Now!"

She nodded and rushed off.

Alec stumbled in and scowled at me. "What kind of trouble did you get yourself into this time, Jace?" He sounded worried when I didn't answer. "Jace?" I didn't look up as he drew closer. "Jace, who is that?"

For the first time I replied, "The girl."

Alec angrily snapped at me. "The mundie girl! Why is she bleeding?" He looked away and muttered something that made my blood boil. "Why couldn't you have just left her?" And like a quiet whisper of wind he answered himself, "I know why."

I didn't have a chance to answer him, because Isabelle had come back with Hodge in tow.

Hodge tightened the sash of his gray robe. "Isabelle said you brought the girl, why so late, only you would know."

In reply I carefully lifted Clary's head to show him the Ravener wound.

He ran a scarred hand through his gray flecked hair and cleared his throat, barking out orders. "Isabelle, gather my herbs and salves from the chest in the library." She nodded silently and ran off again. "Alec, clean the floor and burn the rags afterwards." He glared at Hodge for a moment, then stormed off.

He turned his gaze to me and softly said, "Jace, take her to the infirmary." As an afterthought he added, "you will tell me what happened later."

I nodded and stood, my knees felt weak under Clary's weight. By the Angel if I made it to the infirmary without falling.

~oOo~

Hodge gestured to a bed in the far corner of the infirmary. "Put her there."

I gently laid Clary's limp form on the white sheets. Her blood instantly soaked through the case on the pillow.

I studied her as I waited for Hodge to begin his work. Her bright red hair was dark and matted with dark blood. Clary's hallow cheeks possessed a gray pallor in the witchlight. I could not see her eyes, but I hoped they were the same vibrant green I remembered. Bursting with life and questions. Mirrors to reflect her thoughts, secrets, wonders. She was beautiful, even with Ravener poison coursing through her veins. She was _beautiful_, I've seen pretty girls, but they were no match to Clary's pure beauty.

Hodge pushed me aside, interrupting my thoughts. "Move, Jace, if you'd like her to live you must let me work."

He sat down and began mumbling to himself. "Where is Isabelle?"

On queue Isabelle walked into the room carefully balancing aloe vera and many herbs I had never seen before in my life. She walked by without even acknowledging me. I glared at her back; I brought Clary here, I should be the one helping Hodge. But I knew as much about alchemy as Izzy knew about cooking.

"Thank you Isabelle." He took the herbs from her and placed them on the bedside table. "I need you to remove her clothes, the Ravener poison is burning her through them."

She nodded as Hodge stepped away and pulled the curtain around Clary's bed.

I smirked, I would have enjoyed being Isabelle right now.

Alec trudged in dragging charcoal soot behind him on the white floor. He wiped the sweat from his head, leaving a light streak of blood across his forehead. He wrinkled his nose, "where's Izzy?"

I nodded at the curtain. "Undressing her."

His eyes widened. "The mundie? Why?"

I echoed Hodge. "The Ravener poison is burning her through them."

"Oh."

The curtain whipped back with Izzy standing in front of the bed.

"Go burn these, Jace." She threw Clary's blood and ichor soaked clothes.

I caught them, angry that I was ordered to leave.

"Alec, come hold this." Hodge held a white rag that had the same herbal salve I placed on her neck earlier. "Isabelle, hand me the aloe vera." He was intently leaning over Clary's neck while Alec and Izzy did his bidding. I was pushed away.

I sighed turning down the hallway to the furnace downstairs.

~oOo~

When I came back from burning Clary's clothes, the tension seemed to have subsided. Alec was resting in a chair, his eyelids fluttering closed. Izzy sat at the edge of the bed, still handing Hodge various items as he requested them.

I moved closer to the bed. Clary was wrapped in a white blanket, covering her small body chest to toe. Her skin had returned to its normal pallor while the blanket rose and fell at a steady rate. I sighed out of relief and ran a hand through my hair.

Hodge tied a white cloth behind her neck, signaling he was finished.

Hodge turned to us, his face tired and strained. "She won't wake anytime soon, I think we deserve tea and an explanation after all this." He looked at me.

Alec jumped up, obviously more than happy to leave.

Isabelle yawned, stretched, and said, "I left some clothes in the bathroom for her to wear if she wakes up."

I didn't like how she said _if._

"Thank you Isabelle," He replied.

She nodded and walked behind Alec to the library.

Hodge stood and placed a hand on my shoulder. "Are you coming, Jace? You were, after all, the one who found her."

It took a moment for me to answer him. "Yes, I'll be right behind you."

He quielty left the infirmary.

I looked at Clary, making sure she was still asleep as I bent down to brush a kiss across the knuckle of her right hand.

"Good night, Clary," I whispered.

And for a second, I swore she breathed my name.

I could have skipped to the library.

~oOo~

The interrogation had begun and I was on the defense. Leaning on a bookshelf in the library allowed me to stay calm. "Where should I begin?"

"Why not from the beginning?" Hodge leaned back in his armchair behind the desk, sipping a cup of tea.

Alec stood with his arms crossed in the doorway. He was prepared to run from the room at a second's notice. On the other hand Izzy sat in the brown leather chair, closest to Hodge.

Alec cleared his throat, eager to begin.

I began my tale of the hunt for Clary. I told them about starting at Pandemonium and how the Angel had blessed me because I found her not seven blocks away at an old coffee shop. Hodge smiled at that. I left out the smaller details, such as sitting in the coffee shop, laughing at her friend's failed confessions of his admiration for her and our conversation on the many different _mythical _creatures of the world.

Izzy gasped when I told them how I found Clary in her apartment. Alec scoffed when I said that she obviously killed it. I glared at him, but he brushed it off. I continued on with her fainting from the Ravener's poison. Avoiding the fact I had put a mendelin rune on her was the best choice. I could do without the scolding tonight.

"How did you come to the Institute without being noticed?" Hodge raised his brows inquisitively.

I held my left hand up for the examination of my runes. The perfect excuse to avoid eye contact. "I took a few back routes." I smirked, they didn't notice my unease. "Well done if I say so myself."

Hodge did not speak much through the story, only to ask for a few extra details. He rested his chin in the palm of his hand while he stared intently at the remnants of his empty tea cup.

Alec was still glaring at me, while Izzy blinked slowly.

Alec sneered. "Maybe, if it was true."

I challenged him. "If you're saying that I'm lying, Alec."

"Oh, no." He falsely defended himself. "Now I would _never_ accuse you of that."

"Shut up, both of you." Pressing her fingertips against her temples, Izzy sighed. "Ever since we met this girl, all you two have done is fight."

I looked to Alec; he rubbed the toe of his shoe on the floor.

"Very interesting. Thank you for explaining all of this to us, Jace." Hodge's gaze was on the door as he dismissed us, "go rest now."

We filed out of the room. As I turned to leave, Hodge muttered. "You should know Isabelle is right."

With my back to him I sighed, "I know."

"You and Alec are parabatai, you must not let _anything_ come between you." We both knew what he really meant.

I ran a hand through my hair. "I know that too."

"I just wanted to remind you."

I nodded and eagerly left the library.

**Thanks for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5

**I am so sorry for the wait. My excuse this time is the holidays. Decorating has taken up quite a bit of my time. But here is Chapter 5!**

Chapter 5

It has been three days since I brought Clary to the Institute. It has been two nights since I last saw her.

She has not woken up, but the one thing that keeps me sane is the small chant in my head,_ today could be the day_.

And today could be the day.

~oOo~

I woke up early to watch the sun rise. The pink rays peaked out from behind the green mountains, creeping along like vampires in the night. Making the city of Manhattan glow with a fiery orange and red hue. The glass on a corporate building broke the light into a thousand pieces, scattering the sun like seeds upon the city. For a moment, I was in Alicante, with Max, Izzy, Alec. There was no strain between Alec and I. No scolding from Izzy or Hodge. I closed my eyes and sighed, I missed Idris

After showering, I had a burst of energy. I grinned, training time_._

~oOo~

To get to the training room, I had to walk past the infirmary. I would have kept on walking, ignored the urge to go inside, if I hadn't heard Alec and Izzy. I peered through the small glass window in the door.

"I told you it was the same girl." She was standing with her hands on her hips by Clary's bed.

"I know. Little thing, isn't she? Jace said she killed a Ravener." Alec looked disgusted to even be in the same room.

"Yeah. I thought she was a pixie the first time we saw her." I smirked, she would make a cute pixie. "She's not pretty enough to be a pixie, though," she added.

I hissed low in the back of my throat. _Someone jealous? Clary is prettier than you will ever be._

"Well, nobody looks their best with demon poison in their veins." I raised a brow at his comment. "Is Hodge going to call on the Brothers?" I cringed at the thought of them in the Institute.

"I hope not. They give me the creeps. Anyone who mutilates themselves like that—"

"We mutilate ourselves," Alec said.

Izzy sighed, "I know, Alec, but when we do it, it isn't permanent. And it doesn't always hurt…"

"If you're old enough. Speaking of which, where is Jace?" I quickly ducked below the window. "He saved her, didn't he? I would have thought he'd take some interest in her recovery."

"Hodge said he hasn't been to see her since he brought her here. I guess he doesn't care."

I ran a hand through my hair.

"Sometimes I wonder if he—Look! She moved!"

What? Damn, I wanted to be there when she woke up.

"I guess she's alive after all," Izzy sighed again. "I'll tell Hodge."

_Shit. _I slipped away from the door and turned down the closest hallway.

That's when I came across an old friend.

~oOo~

As I drew my fingers across the black and white keys, I remembered my father would say that being a Shadowhunter consisted of more than knowing how to dismember the tail of a Scorprios demon without getting any poison on your gear. Music and the arts were apparently just as important.

I smiled as I sat down on the bench, warming up with a few scales across the keys. Soon, I began playing a familiar melody.

~oOo~

I didn't stop playing until I heard a slight tap on the floor.

_It must have been Alec._ "Alec? Is that you?"

A soft, but familiar voice replied. "It's not Alec. It's me. Clary."

My throat swelled, making it hard to speak for a moment. I stood, hitting few keys in the process.

Clary's bright red hair cascaded off her shoulders in slightly damp, shiny curls. Her cheeks had a healthy rose tint to them while her lips were full and pink again. The fire and will behind her green eyes made me smile. She was alive.

"Our own Sleeping Beauty. Who finally kissed you awake?" I smirked; _I would have gladly done so._

"Nobody. I woke up on my own," she said lamely, not following the joke.

"Was there anyone with you?

"Isabelle, but she went off to get someone—Hodge, I think. She told me to wait, but—"

I grinned, "I should have warned her about your habit of never doing what you're told."

As I looked down, I couldn't help but grin. The jeans she wore were cuffed several times, while the red tank top hung _very_ low on her chest. They were obviously Izzy's.

"Are those Isabelle's clothes? They look ridiculous on you." They looked both ridiculous and cute.

"I could point out that you burned _my _clothes." She said, defiantly placing her hands on her hips.

I waved her off. "It was purely cautionary. Come on, I'll take you to Hodge."

~oOo~

Her eyebrows rose while she looked around in obvious amazement. That curiosity was bound to have questions.

"Why does this place have so many bedrooms?" _Of course. _"I thought it was a research institute."

"This is the residential wing. We're pledged to offer safety and lodging to any Shadowhunter who requests it. We can house up to two hundred people here." They were simple facts.

"But most of these rooms are empty."

"People come and go. Nobody stays for long. Usually it's just us—Alec, Isabelle, Max, their parents—and me and Hodge."

"Max?" She asked.

"You met the beauteous Isabelle?" She delicately wrinkled her nose, making smile. "Alec is her elder brother. Max is the youngest, but he's overseas with his parents."

"On vacation?"

"Not exactly," I hesitated, I didn't want to give her too many details yet. "You can think of them as—as foreign diplomats, and of this as an embassy, of sorts. Right now they're in the Shadowhunter home country, working out some very delicate peace negotiations. They brought Max with them because he's so young."

"Shadowhunter home country?" She looked confused. "What's it called?"

"Idris."

"I've never heard of it."

"You wouldn't have," she scowled. "Mundanes don't know about it. There are wardings—protective spells—up all over the borders. If you tried to cross into Idris, you'd simply find yourself transported instantly from one border to the next. You'd never know what happened."

"So it's not on any maps."

"Not mundie ones. For our purposes you can consider it a small country between Germany and France."

She had a calculating look. "But there isn't anything between Germany and France. Except Switzerland."

"Precisely," I said with a grin.

"I take it you've been there. To Idris, I mean."_ Not recently._

"I grew up there. Most of us do. There are, of course, Shadowhunters all over the world. We have to be everywhere, because demonic activity is everywhere. But to a Shandowhunter, Idris is always 'home.'"

"Like Mecca or Jerusalem," she said softly. "So most of you are brought up there, and then when you grow up—"

"We're sent to where we're needed," I stated. "And there are a few, like Isabelle and Alec, who grow up away from the home country because that's where their parents are. With all the resources of the Institute here, with Hodge's training—" I stopped, we were at the library. "This is the library."

The Institute's cat, Church, was curled up by the wooden doors. "Hey Church." I stuck my bare foot out to rub his stomach, he purred.

"Wait, Alec and Isabelle and Max—they're the only Shadowhunters your age that you know, that you spend time with?"

This struck me as an odd question. I stopped petting the cat as I answered. "Yes."

"That must get kind of lonely."

"I have everything I need." I looked at her and helplessly added, _almost everything._

I pushed open the grand oak library doors with Clary only a few short steps behind.

~oOo~

Clary's eyes instantly lit up as we entered the library. I had to admit, it was a pretty impressive space, not that _I_ personally did much reading in it.

Hodge sat behind his desk with Hugo perched on his shoulder. He was the first to speak. "A book lover, I see." He turned his gaze on me. "You didn't tell me that, Jace."

I chuckled, "We haven't done much talking during our short acquaintance, I'm afraid our reading habits didn't come up."

Clary glared at me; I shrugged.

"How can you tell? That I like books, I mean."

"The look on your face when you walked in." He stood from behind the desk. "Somehow I doubted you were that impressed by _me._"

She smiled then stifled a gasp as he stepped into view.

"This is Hugo."_ Ah, that's it. _"Hugo is a raven, and, as such, he knows many things. I, meanwhile, am Hodge Starkweather, a professor of history, and, as such, I do not know nearly enough."

She laughed a little and shook his hand. "Clary Fray." I smirked, _cute name._

"Honored to make your acquaintance. I would be honored to make the acquaintance of anyone who could kill a Ravener with her bare hands."

She blushed bright pink. "It wasn't my bare hands. It was Jace's—well, I don't remember what it was called, but—"

I helped her out, "She means my Sensor. She shoved it down the thing's throat. The runes must have choked it. I guess I'll need another one, I should have mentioned that."

Hodge's gaze was still focused on Clary. "There are several more in the weapons room. That was quick thinking." He smiled, flashing a nicked front tooth. "What gave the idea of using the Sensor as a weapon?"

The silence was cut by sharp laughter. Alec sat in a dark leather chair by the fireplace, glaring at Clary. I hadn't noticed him when we came in. "I can't believe you buy that story, Hodge."

Grinding my teeth, I glowered in his direction. He conveniently avoided my stare.

Hodge raised an eyebrow. "I'm not quite sure what you mean, Alec." That was a lie. "Are you suggesting that she didn't kill that demon after all?"

"Of course she didn't. Look at her—she's a mundie, Hodge, and a little kid, at that. There's no way she took on a Ravener demon."

_And when have you?_ I bit my tongue.

"I am not a little kid," she pouted, defeating her point. "I'm sixteen years old—well, I will be on Sunday."

"The same age as Isabelle," Hodge replied thoughtfully. "Would you call her a child?"

Alec hissed through his teeth, "Isabelle hails from one of the greatest Shadowhunter dynasties in history. This girl," his pale face twisted with loathing, "on the other hand, hails from New Jersey."

"I'm from Brooklyn! And so what? I just killed a demon in my house and you're going to be a dickhead about it because I'm not some spoiled-rotten rich brat like you and your sister?"

I burst into laughter; no one has ever had the nerve to talk down Alec like that.

"_What _did you call me?" He was stunned.

Still laughing I said, "She has a point, Alec. It's those bridge-and-tunnel demons you really have to watch out for—"

For the first time Alec acknowledged me. "It's not _funny_, Jace. Are you just going to let her stand there and call me names?"

"Yes," I replied coolly. "It'll do you good—try to think of it as endurance training."

"We may be _parabatai_," He stated angrily. "But your flippancy is wearing on my patience."

"And your obstinacy is wearing on mine." All the humor gone from my voice. "When I found her she was lying on the floor in a pool of blood with a dying demon practically on top of her. I watched as it vanished. If she didn't kill it, who did?"

Alec's blue eyes narrowed. "Raveners are stupid. Maybe it got itself in the neck with its stinger. It's happened before—"

I couldn't take it. "Now you're suggesting it committed suicide?"

His jaw tightened. "It isn't right for her to be here." I wanted to hit him. "Mundies aren't allowed in the Institute, and there are good reasons for that. If anyone knew about this, we could be reported to the Clave."

"That's not entirely true," Hodge said. "The Law does allow us to offer sanctuary to mundanes in certain circumstances. A Ravener has already attacked Clary's mother—she could well have been next."

I looked at Clary, remembering the sight of her small body, lying in a pool of her own blood underneath the Ravener's heavy corpse. I swallowed.

"Raveners are search-and-destroy machines. They act under orders from warlocks or powerful demon lords. Now, what interest would a warlock or demon lord have in an ordinary mundane household?" His glare at Clary sharpened. "Any thoughts?"

"It must have been a mistake," she said quietly.

Alec scoffed. "Demons don't make those kind of mistakes. If they went after your mother, there must have been a reason. If she were

innocent—"

"What do you mean, 'innocent'?" Clary didn't move her gaze from Alec.

Hodge, always the delegator, cut in. "What he means is that it is extremely unusual for a powerful demon, the kind who might command a host of lesser demons, to interest himself in affairs of human beings. No mundane may summon a demon—they lack that power—but there have been some, desperate and foolish, who have found a witch or warlock to do it for them."

"My mother doesn't know any warlocks. She doesn't believe in magic." With a thoughtful look, she added, "Madame Dorothea—she lives downstairs—she's a witch. Maybe the demons were after her and got my mom by mistake?"

Hodge looked slightly surprised. "A witch lives downstairs from you?"

I shook my head. "She's a hedge-witch—a fake. I already looked into it. There's no reason for any warlock to be interested in her unless he's in the market for nonfunctional crystal balls."

"And we're back where we began." Hodge sighed and smoothed Hugo's ebony feathers. "It seems the time has come to notify the Clave."

"No!" I yelled, I didn't want Clary to leave; _she just got here_. "We can't—"

Hodge set his mouth in a straight line. "It made sense to keep Clary's presence here a secret while we were not sure she would recover, but now she has, and she is the first mundane to pass through doors of the Institute in over a hundred years. You know the rules about mundane knowledge of Shadowhunters, Jace. The Clave must be informed."

"Absolutely," Alec agreed, I frowned. "I could a get a message to my father—"

"She's not a mundane." I had to keep her here, somehow.

Hodge raised his eyebrows while Alec choked mid-sentence.

Clary turned her gaze on me, her voice quiet. "But I am."

"No, you aren't." I swallowed out of panic, the truth could condemn us both.

"That night—there were Du'sien demons, dressed like police officers. We had to get past them. Clary was too weak to run, and there wasn't time to hide—she would have died." Alec crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "So I used my stele—put a _medelin_ rune on the inside of her arm. I thought—"

"Are you out of your _mind?_" Hodge rattled the wood desk with his iron fist. "You know what the Law says about placing Marks on Mundanes! You—you of all people ought to know better!"

"But it worked." I argued. "Clary, show them your arm."

With a doubtful look, she held out her arm.

"See, it's almost gone. It didn't hurt her at all." I smiled, proud I proved them wrong.

"That's not the point." Hodge was red with fury. "You could have turned her into a Forsaken."

Alec lashed out, more livid and shocked than Hodge. "I can't believe you, Jace. Only Shadowhunters can receive Covenant Marks—they _kill_ mundanes—"

Is everyone around me deaf? "She's not a mundane. Haven't you been listening? It explains why she could see us. She must have Clave blood."

Clary lowered her arm. "But I don't. I couldn't."

I didn't look at her. "You must. If you didn't, that Mark I made on your arm…" I cringed at the icy thought that followed.

"That's enough, Jace." Hodge's tone was final. "There's no need to frighten her further."

I pushed on, eager to prove my point. "But I was right, wasn't I? It explains what happened to her mother, too. If she was a Shadowhunter in exile, she might well have Downworld enemies."

Clary scowled, losing her temper. "My mother wasn't a Shadowhunter!"

"Your father, then, what about him?" I was desperate now.

Her face was the calm before a storm. "He died. Before I was born."

I flinched remembering my father.

Alec was the first to break the silence. "If her father were a Shadowhunter, and her mother a mundane—well, we all know it's against the Law to marry a mundie. Maybe they were in hiding."

Alec was finally helping.

"My mother would have told me."

"Not necessarily," I said. "We all have secrets." _Some more than others._

Clary's face brightened, "Luke, our friend. He would know." She gasped. "It's been three days—he must be frantic. Can I call him? Is there a phone?" She turned to face me, "please."

The walls closed around me, and tunnel vision set in. There was only Clary. Her green eyes so pure held me tighter than she could ever know. She looked so small and frightened. An earnest plea danced upon her lips, a call for help to go far away from here, _from me. _Reality took control once again, I exhaled. My resistance was breaking, hesitating, I threw Hodge a pleading glance.

He stiffly nodded and moved away from the desk, gesturing to the phone beside him.

She dialed several numbers and stood, waiting for this 'Luke' to answer.

Clary yelled into the phone after a moment, "Luke!" She leaned against the desk, nervously entwining the phone wire between her fingers. "It's me. It's Clary."

I could hear his deep voice buzzing on the other side. "Clary. You're all right?"

She sighed and leaned heavily against the desk. "I'm fine. I'm sorry I didn't call you before. Luke, my mom—"

He cut her off. "I know. The police were here."

"Then you haven't heard from her," Clary frowned. "What did the police say?"

Hodge had his back to Clary. He was attempting to give her privacy, but I caught him turn his head slightly. While Hodge paid close attention, Alec couldn't have cared less. His head hung lazily back on the chair with his eyes tightly shut.

"Just that she was missing." He stated. "Where are you?"

She twisted the phone wire tighter around her index finger. "I'm in the city, I don't know where exactly. With some friends." I smirked. "My wallet's gone, though. If you've got some cash, I could take a cab to your place—"

"No," he snapped.

"What?" Clary was distressed. It stung that she had no desire to stay.

"No," he stated, a cold tinge to his voice. "It's too dangerous. You can't come here."

"We could call—"

"Look," he cut her off again. "Whatever your mother's gotten herself mixed up in, it's nothing to do with me. You're better off where you are."

Well, I agree with him on the last part.

Apparently Clary didn't. "But I don't want to stay here." She was close to the whinning of a child. "I don't know these people. You—"

"I'm _not _your father, Clary." His voice buzzed like bees. "I've told you that before."

She swallowed and her lip between her teeth. "I'm sorry. It's just—"

"Don't call me for favors again." _Who was this guy? Is he always this cruel to Clary?_ "I've got my own problems, I don't need to be bothered with yours." He hung up with a final click and the dial tone returned.

~oOo~

Clary didn't move, she stayed there, holding the phone tight against her ear as if he had set it down for a moment and would be back in a moment.

Seconds later, she smacked the phone down, her hands trembled.

Alec had his head up, his eyes narrowed in Clary's direction. I was leaning against Alec's chair, watching her intently. "I take it he wasn't happy to hear from you?"

She held her head down as she raked her nails into her palms. They looked as if she could draw blood.

_Clary? _

Hodge had turned back around, hands behind his back. "I think I'd like to have a talk with Clary." I blinked, unconcerned. "Alone," he added.

"Fine. We'll leave you to it." Alec stood, raising his hands high into the air.

I panicked. "That's hardly fair. I'm the one who found her. I'm the one who saved her life!" I couldn't help it. I lowered my voice, focusing on her. "You want me here, don't you?"

Clary turned away, she seemed ashamed.

"Not everyone wants you all the time, Jace," Alec snickered.

"Don't be ridiculous." I retorted, trying not to sound hurt. "Fine, then. We'll be in the weapons room."

I casually closed the doors, leaving Clary behind.

~oOo~

I was tempted to stay and listen, but Alec cleared his throat.

He stood impatiently before me, switching from one foot to the other.

I smirked. "Can I help you?"

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Come on."

**Thanks again :P**


	6. Chapter 6

**Enjoy! **

Chapter 6

The weapons room was not ten minutes from the library. Today it seemed endless.

Alec stared straight ahead as we walked, not making any move to speak, and vice versa. I didn't joke, knowing it would only make things worse. I didn't comment on Clary; that _definitely_ wouldn't help anything. So that left us, or_ m__yself_, in an uncomfortable silence.

I exhaled when I spotted the entrance to the weapons room. Alec still was not speaking. I sighed and walked ahead, opening the doors.

As I opened the wide oak doors I was greeted by the sweet smell of wood, steel, and leather. It was deliciously intoxicating.

The weapons room was one of the largest rooms in the Institute and by far the most interesting. The wooden walls held various Shadowhunter equipment: from our clear runic blades to obnoxious crossbows.

Crossbows are overrated and melodramatic. I prefer hand to hand combat, best to know thy enemy as thyself. Never used a bow and never will.

Alec studiously ignored me as he grabbed a silver lined bow and sat at the pine wood table. Steel strings glinted maliciously, hinting it could slice off your hand if you slipped.

As I pulled various blades from the wall, I remembered I no longer had a Sensor or stele. Before sitting down, I snatched up two of each.

Alec didn't look up as the seat squeaked beneath me. He kept his head low, ebony hair shadowing his eyes.

I opted for small talk while retracing runes into Sanvi. "What do you have there, Alec?"

No response. I guess I am talking to my—

"A bow," he stated.

It was a start. "What kind?"

He raised his head, blue eyes shining. "I am positive that it is an eighteenth century hallow purified steel." I smirked, not caring much about what he said; just glad he was saying it. But he slowed, the light in his eyes vanishing, as if he realized he wasn't speaking to me. "It was made…"

He frowned, lowering his head once again.

I sighed. "It's a nice bow, Alec."

He shrugged, I tried.

Closing my hand over Sanvi, I ran my stele over and around the faded runes again.

The silence could have easily lasted for hours if it weren't for the creak of the door.

Clary stood in the doorway, her green eyes sparked and widened as they traveled the length of the room.

"Where's Hodge?" I inquired.

"Writing to the Silent Brothers," she said, staring in awe at the weapons hanging on the walls.

Alec shuddered. "Ugh." She narrowed her eyes at him. Clary would have to meet to them to understand.

"What are you doing?" She edged closer to the table.

"Putting the last touches on these." I moved aside to show her. "Sanvi, Sansanvi, and Semangelaf. They're seraph blades."

She attempted to raise an eyebrow. "Those don't look like knives. How did you make them? Magic?"

_Angel, mundies and they're ridiculous obsession with magic. _Alec inhaled sharply and scowled at Clary.

"The funny thing about mundies," I drawled. "Is how obsessed with magic they are for a bunch of people who don't even know what the word means."

"I know what it means," she snapped.

I smirked. "No, you don't, you just think you do." She opened her mouth, but I waved her off, continuing. "Magic is a dark and elemental force, not just a lot sparkly wands and crystal balls and talking goldfish."

"I never said it was a lot of talking goldfish, you—"

"Just because you can call an electric eel a rubber duck doesn't make it a rubber duck, does it?" I smiled and added. "And God help the poor bastard who decides they want to take a bath with the duckie."

"You're driveling," Clary accused.

_Obviously_, "I'm not."

"Yes, you are." I couldn't believe it, Alec agreed with Clary. He addressed Clary more sternly. "Look, we don't do magic, okay?" He put his head back down, tweaking the bow. "That's all you need to know about it."

She glared at the top of his head before looking at me. "Hodge said I can go home."

Sanvi almost slipped my grasp. "_He said what?"_ _Has being locked in that library finally driven him mad?_

Alec's head shot up, and I caught the ghost of a smile.

"To look at my mother's things." I relaxed, slightly. "If you go with me."

"Jace," Alec hissed, but I ignored him.

"If you really want to prove that my mom or dad was a Shadowhunter, we should look through my mom's things. What's left of them."

"Down the rabbit hole." I felt slightly giddy, she wasn't leaving. "Good idea. If we go right now, we should have another three, four hours of daylight."

Alec's voice was hopeful. "Do you want me to come with you?"

We were at the door, Clary already shoving it open.

"No." I didn't turn around. I didn't want to see Alec's eyes shining with hope. "That's all right. Clary and I can handle this on our own." _Clary and I._

The door closed behind us with a final 'click', leaving my _parabatai _alone.

~oOo~

I led the way down the hall, Clary scrambling to keep up. "Have you got your house keys?" I asked.

She looked to her feet. "Yeah."

"Good. Not that we couldn't break in, but we'd run a greater chance of disturbing any wards that might be up if we did." I smiled, _we, _Clary and I were doing this,_ alone._

She shrugged, indifferent. "If you say so." I could feel her staring, making me anxious.

"Jace?" She asked as I pressed the call button for the elevator.

Ancient steel wires creaked as the elevator rose. I turned to her as she bit down on the side of her pink lip.

I swallowed. "Yeah?"

"How did you know I had Shadowhunter blood? Was there some way you could tell?"

_You must have Shadowhunter blood, somehow, if you didn't you would be__ Forsaken. _The elevator arrived with a final groan.

As I unlocked the latch on the elevator I said, "I guessed. It seemed the most likely explanation."

She scowled. "You guessed? You must have been pretty sure, considering you could have killed me."

We stepped into the elevator and I pressed the down button. Clary was jolted as the elevator plunged downwards, I reached out to help her, but she pretended not to notice.

"I was ninety percent sure."

"I see." That was all she said before she hit me.

I stumbled backward and hit the elevator wall. Hell, she could really pack a a lot of force into her hand. It was...hot. Again, I put my hand on my cheek more out of surprise than pain. "What the hell was that for?"

"The other ten percent." _Damn, you are clever._

~oOo~

Even though I _may _have deserved it, I was still angry. She slapped me, _again. _I had nothing to say, so like a six year-old who doesn't get his way, I sat in a moody silence.

I may not have been talking, but that didn't mean I wasn't looking.

Clary was intently staring a spot on the ground, biting her lip again. Her curly hair was slightly tangled in the back, I itched to smooth it out. I forgot that she was still wearing Izzy's clothes. The pants were cuffed several times up and the bright red tank top hung too low for the public eye.

She met my gaze with her eyes bright and lips parted slightly. I raised an eyebrow, "Can I help you with something?"

She glanced at her hands and rolled her eyes, "Those girls on the other side of the car are staring at you."

An annoying high-pitched giggle erupted. I frowned and looked to find the culprit.

Two blonde girls around Clary's age sat across the way, giggling madly and pointing in my direction. Ah, of course it was my _stunning_ looks.

"Of course they are," I replied cockily. "I am stunningly attractive."

She narrowed her eyes. "Haven't you ever heard that modesty is an attractive trait?"

"Only from ugly people," I said. "The meek may inherit the earth, but at the moment it belongs to the conceited. Like me." _And you. _I winked at the two girls. They giggled hysterically and hid behind their hair.

Clary sighed, "How come they can see you?"

"Glamours are a pain to use. Sometimes we don't bother." I felt a better after that, mostly because Clary and I were speaking again.

When we were off the train, I was slightly nervous, considering what happened the last time I was here. I began humming a tune somewhere between "Happy Birthday" and "The Hymn of the Republic" while I rolled the cylinder of a Seraph blade over my knuckles.

"Do you have to do that? It's annoying."

I smirked and hummed louder.

"I'm sorry I smacked you," she sounded guilty.

"Just be glad you hit me and not Alec. He would have hit you back." It was most likely true.

Clary kicked a soda can. "He seems to be itching for the chance," That was probably right too. "What was it that Alec called you? Para-something?"

"_Parabatai_," I stated. "It means a pair of warriors who fight together—who are closer than brothers. Alec is more than just my best friend. My father and his father were _parabatai_ when they were young. His father was my godfather—that's why I live with them. They're my adopted family."

"But your last name isn't Lightwood," she observed.

"No."

Clary looked up to the front door of her apartment. She slowly wiped her palms on the front of her jeans.

No destruction was apparent, except for a few long scratches in the door, which could have been mistaken from a dog clawing at it. Other than that, the outside was free of any major distress. The paint was still peeling from the blue and white boarders of the building and the yellow glass of the windowpane glittered in the sunlight. Bees hummed in the trees above our heads, filling the silence. The rosebushes were bursting with red roses and I was reminded of Clary's hair. It looked like a mundane summer's afternoon.

"It looks the same," she said.

"On the outside," I reached into my pocket, grasping out my Sensor.

She looked at it. "So that's a Sensor? What does it do?"

"It picks up frequencies, like a radio does, but these frequencies are demonic in origin."

"Demon shortwave?"

"Something like that." I crouched slightly from instinct, holding the Sensor out in front of me. It quietly ticked. I frowned, that wasn't right. "It's picking up trace activity, but that could just be left over from that night. I'm not getting anything strong enough for there to be demons present now."

Clary exhaled, "Good." She walked in front of me, bending down to retrieve her keys.

She unlocked it and froze, seeing the long scratches in the door.

I touched her arm, reassuring her. "I'll go in first."

Pushing the door open, I beckoned her over with my free hand. Once we were inside, I blinked, letting my eyes readjust. The light over our heads was still out, leaving the entryway in shadows. I glanced at Clary and saw her staring uneasily at the gypsy's door.

I turned up the stairs, spotting red stains on the banister. "Blood." I tucked the Sensor back into my belt, drawing out Sansanvi.

"Maybe it's mine." Clary sounded nervous, her voice almost a whisper. "From the other night."

"It would be dry by now if it were. Come on." She nodded and pressed forward.

We climbed further up the stairs, until we reached her apartment. I stood behind her, the top of her head only reaching my chest. Craning my neck lower, I watched impatiently as she fumbled with her keys, searching for the right one. Her hair tickled my cheek; she was close enough that I could even smell the strawberry scent of her hair. Was it strawberry? I was surprised I had never noticed it before. I sighed.

"Don't breathe down my neck," she hissed. I backed away as she slid a key into the lock with a light 'click'.

I moved in front, pushing her back. "I'll go in first."

Cold air greeted me in the hallway, bringing old demon stink with it. But Clary cut in front of me, and quietly gasped. I hurried to her side; she was staring in disbelief at the apartment.

The whole place was empty. No curtains, no carpet, nothing. She turned to the kitchen, her mouth twitching in one corner. "What would demons want with our microwave?"

I smiled and shook my head. "I don't know, but I'm not sensing any demonic presence right now. I'd say they're long gone."

"Are you satisfied?" I asked, eager to leave. "There's nothing here."

"I want to see my room," she stated.

_Wh__at __sentimental value—_but the plea in her eyes stopped me. "If that's what takes," I shrugged and slid Sansanvi back into my belt.

She grasped the handle to the bedroom door and frowned. It stuck, but she kept pulling until it flew open, tossing Clary against a wall.

A loud roar sounded and I crouched to the ground and looked up. A Forsaken tall as a tree loomed over me, each arm thick as my body. In one hand it held a moldy axe big as my head, while the other was a sickly gray color, covered in grime. It stank of decaying flesh. I growled, _how did I miss it?_

I struggled to retrieve Sananvi from my belt. "Sansanvi!" I raised the Seraph blade in my left hand.

I sank lower, slashing out at its leg, it moaned and stepped back. I bid my time and ran to help Clary. She was a few feet behind me, her form sprawled awkardly across the ground. I briskly hauled her to feet and pushed her forward through the door. Then slammed it shut.

Clary froze as the Forsaken hit the door, leaving a visible crack.

"Get downstairs!" I yelled, "Get out of the—"

The hinges broke, and the door narrowly missed me before I leaped to the side. Clary was edging down the steps, frozen in place. It roared as I shouted, "Clary!" but I doubt she heard me. An axe sliced the air, heading for my beauteous face, and missed. The blade bit deeply into the wooden banister.

I laughed, really, that's it? The Forsaken growled, its cracked mouth widened, revealing rows of black decayed teeth. Abandoning the axe, it lunged at me with raised stone maul fists. I whipped Sansanvi around, blazing like a white star, and sliced into the Forsaken's dead shoulder. It swayed for a moment, then fell forward, its arms clutching empty air. I leaped to the side, but not quick enough. It grasped my torso, pulling me down. I cried out as it went limp, crushing me beneath it. There was length of splintering thumps, then silence.

_Ah, hell. _My legs burned from the weight of the Forsaken. My dead arm was bent at an unnatural angle._ Shit. _I closed my eyes, fighting the pain.

"Jace," a warm rested on my shoulder.

I willed my eyes to open. Clary's face hovered mine; her green eyes soft with worry, while her silky curls fell across my face. I sighed out of relief, "Is it dead?"

She wrinkled her nose. "Almost."

"Hell," I winced. "My legs—"

She looked to my legs. "Hold still." Crawling behind me, she placed her small hands under my arms and clasped her fingers together on my chest. I felt her lean all her weight against me as she mustered enough strength to pull my body out from beneath the corpse. I groaned in pain as she slid my dead legs out from under the Forsaken's sickening weight. She let go as I struggled to stand.

"Is your arm all right?"

"No. Broken," I hissed. "Can you reach into my pocket?" In any other circumstance I would have smirked at that.

She paused, "Which one?"

"Inside jacket, right side." I said through clenched teeth. "Take out one of the seraph blades and hand it to me."

I didn't dare move as she reached inside the pocket of my jacket. She leaned into me, close enough that I noticed black blood on her face, speckling her freckled cheeks and lips. A painfully strong urge to clean her cheeks washed over me. To soflty touch her lips with my fingertips. To tangle my hands in her wild hair. I turned away. She grasped the knife and pulled it out.

She handed it to me without looking up. "Thanks." I whispered its name. "Sanvi."

I stood by the Forsaken, preparing to bestow the killing blow. "Don't watch," I warned, knowing she wouldn't listen. I brought the blade down, causing the Forsaken to jerk one last time. Its neck spraying more blood and ichor on my gear. Grimacing, in pain and disgust, I turned back around.

Sighing, "I told you not to look."

Her hand covered her mouth, eyes wide. "I thought it would disappear. Back to its own dimension—you said."

"I said that's what happens to demons when they die." I forgot how naïve she was about our world. Wincing, I shrugged my jacket off, exposing my left arm. "That wasn't a demon." As I pulled my stele out, I caught her staring, I grinned. "This," I gestured to the stele, "is a stele." I pressed the tip to my arm, connecting the lines as I had hundreds of times before. "And this, is what happens when Shadowhunters are wounded."

Clary stared in awe, her mouth slightly open. I drew the stele across my arm in a haze of fluid black lines. I breathed, the searing pain relieved.

"That's amazing," she said. "How did you—?"

"That was an _iratze_—a healing rune," I stated. "Finishing the rune with the stele activates it." I shoved the stele back into my belt and kicked the Forsaken's corpse. "We're going to have to report this to Hodge. He'll freak out," I smirked.

"Why will he freak?" She tipped her head to side, like a curious little robin. "And I get that thing isn't a demon—that's why the Sensor didn't register it, right?"

_She's quick. _"You see the scars all over its face?" I gestured to the corpse.

"Yes," she nodded.

"Those were made with a stele. Like this one." I tapped it in my belt. "You asked me what happens when you carve Marks onto someone who doesn't have Shadowhunter blood. Just one Mark will only burn, but a lot of Marks, powerful ones? Carved into the flesh of a totally ordinary human being with no trace of Shadowhunter ancestry? You get this." I nodded at the corpse. "The runes are agonizingly painful. The Marked ones go insane—the pain drives them out of their minds. They become fierce, mindless killers. They don't sleep or eat unless you make them, and they die, usually quickly. Runes have great power and can be used to do great good—but they can be used for evil. The Forsaken are evil." It was quite a speech, if I say so myself.

Clary's eyes widened in horror. "But why would anyone do that to themselves?"

"Nobody would. It's something that gets done to them. By a warlock, maybe, some Downworlder gone bad. The Forsaken are loyal to the one who Marked them, and they're fierce killers. They can obey simple commands, too. It's like having a—a slave army." I glanced back and stepped over it. "I'm going back upstairs."

"But there's nothing there," she whispered.

"There might be more of them," the corner of my mouth twitched, I felt giddy again, fresh adreline thick in my blood. "You should wait here." I turned, and began to mount the first step.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a shrill and heavily accented voice cautioned, it sounded faintly familiar. "There are more of them where the first one came from."

"Madame Dorothea?" Clary sounded shocked.

I spun around. By the door stood a woman that looked somewhere in her late sixties, her dark face full of ashy wrinkles. She wore a lengthy purple—dress? On her head rested a wispy gray bun.

A mundane? That saw… "But…"

Exasperatedly, Clary asked, "more _what?_"

"More Forsaken," the woman replied as if it was a common fact. Her voice sounded happy, cheerful even. "You have made a mess, haven't you? I'm sure you weren't planning on clearing up either. Typical," she tisked.

"But you're a _mundane_," I stood amazed, _how could a mundie see…?_

"So observant," she waved her hand in my direction. "The Clave really broke the mold with you."

_She knows... The Clave? _"You know about the Clave?" I demanded. "You knew about them, and you knew there were Forsaken in this house, and you didn't notify them?" My anger broiled over. "Just the existence of Forsaken is a crime against the Covenant—"

Her dark eyes blazed. "Neither Clave nor the Covenant have ever done anything for me. I owe them nothing." The thick New York accent vanished, replaced with something deeper, almost like the crackle of flames. I reached to my belt, my hand on Sanvi—

"Jace, stop it." Clary's eyes narrowed at me. "If you know about the Clave and the Forsaken," her tone was hopeful, "then maybe you know what happened to my mother?"

The gypsy shook her head, pity in her voice. "My advice to you is to forget your mother. She's gone." I scowled, _Clary doesn't need your pity._

Clary swayed to the side, I stepped forward to hold her arm. "You mean she's dead?"

"No," she spoke through her teeth. "I'm sure she's still alive. For now."

"Then I have to find her," Clary said, determined. "You understand? I have to find her before—"

Dorothea held up her hand. "I don't want to involve myself in Shadowhunter business."

"But you knew my mother. She was your neighbor—" Clary was desperate.

"This is an official Clave investigation," I snapped. "I can always come back with the Silent Brothers." _Find out wh__o the hell you are._

"Oh, for the—" she sighed. "I suppose you might as well come in. I'll tell you what I can." She pointed a wrinkled finger at me, glaring. "But if you tell anyone I helped you, Shadowhunter, you'll wake up tomorrow with snakes for hair and an extra pair of arms."

I ran a hand through my hair. "That might be nice," I said thoughtfully, "an extra pair of arms. Handy in fight." I winked at Clary.

She rolled her eyes.

The gypsy smiled, showing a row of yellow teeth. "Not if they're growing out of your…" She paused, "neck."

"Yikes," I fought the urge to yawn.

"Yikes is right, Jace Wayland." She turned her back to us, marching into the apartment.

_What?_

Clary looked to me, attempting to raise her eyebrow. "Wayland?"

"It's my name. I can't say I like that she knows it."

The lights of the apartment flicked on in the entryway. We stepped in, I was hit with the pungent smell of rancid incense and rusted blood.

Clary shrugged at me. "Still, I think we might as well try talking to her. What have we got to lose?"

I frowned, "Once you've spent a bit more time in our world you won't ask me that again."

**Thanks a ton for your reviews!**


	7. Chapter 7

**I am so sorry for the wait…but nevertheless here it is.**

Chapter 7

The gypsy's apartment had the same layout as Clary's. Yet, the spaces were used _much_ differently. Rows of beads hung from the ceiling in the entryway and astrological posters plastered the walls. Clary was staring at a poster of a palm titled _"In Manibus Fortuna"_, each line of the hand was carefully labeled.

Instead of looking at the poster with Clary, I took moment to really _look_ at Clary since killing the Forsaken.

The blood on her cheek had dried to a dark rust and parts of her hair was knotted with blood. She bit her lip as she studied the poster. And the red strap of Izzy's tank top slipped down, revealing Clary's pale shoulder. Dorothea's head poked in, but I hardly noticing. I glanced down, spotting a large gash in the back of Clary's shirt. On the small of her back was a cut the length of my finger, covered in dry blood. And in that moment I wanted to hug her.

I always wanted to hug her, but a sudden need to make her feel better washed over me. A need to comfort and protect her small body from the pain of our world. I wanted to hold her, stroke her hair, and whisper the promise that I would help her find her mother. I wanted to kiss her, caress her pretty face— Dorothea mumbled something.

"What?" I asked, feeling flustered and dazed.

"Tea. I find it both settles the stomach and concentrates the mind. Wonderful drink, tea." Smiling, the gypsy lowered her head, as if she found tea funny.

"I'll have tea," Clary said.

I sighed, "All right. As long as it isn't Earl Grey." I wrinkled my nose, "I hate bergamot.

Dorothea cackled loudly, walking through the bead curtain.

Clary raised her eyebrows. "You hate bergamot?"

I wandered over to the bookshelf, smiling at its contents. Row upon row of books and novels all having to do with fortune telling. _Palm Reading for Dummies, How to Interrogate the Dead, Ancient and Modern Chants, _and my personal favorite: _Got Demons?_ "You have a problem with that?"

"You may be the only guy my age I've ever met who knows what bergamot is, much less that it's in Earl Grey tea."

"Yes, well," I couldn't help but smile, "I'm not like other guys." I stood pulling _Got Demons? _off its shelf. "Besides, at the Institute we have to take classics in basic medicinal uses for plants. It's required." The book was useless, showing endless pictures of what mundies _thought _demons looked like. They were partly right: ugly, some slimy, but the names and things they did were ridiculous. _Hydrophenes: _a rare demon that preys on small animals alone._ Indorocki: _a breed of rock demons that will steal your food and hide it. And _wanterdye: _a family of friendly and docile water demons. There is no such thing as a_ friendly and docile _demon.

She shrugged, "I figured all your classes were stuff like Slaughter 101 and Beheading for Beginners."

I smirked, "Very funny, Fray."

She whirled around, ignoring the palmistry poster. "Don't call me that."

I looked up, surprised. "Why not? It's your last name, isn't it?"

She looked down, frowning. "No reason."

"I see." _That was the nickname the mundie boy called her, wasn't it? By the Angel, I had forgotten about that scrawny thing. No one can blame me, he's hardly memorable. _I gestured to the books on the shelf. "This must be the trash she keeps up front to impress credible mundanes. There's not one serious text here."

She frowned, defending the pitiful books. "Just because it's not the kind of magic you do—"

"I _do not do magic," _I hissed, tossing the book back onto its shelf. "Get it through your head: Human beings are not magic users. It's part of what makes them human. Witches and warlocks can only use magic because they have demon blood."

Clary didn't say anything for a moment. "But I've seen you use magic. You use enchanted weapons—"

"I use tools that are magical. And just to be able to do that, I have to undergo rigorous training. The rune tattoos on my skin protect me too. If you tried to use one of the Seraph blades, for instance, it'd probably burn your skin, maybe kill you." I suppressed a shudder.

"What if I got the tattoos? Could I use them then?" _She wasn't going to let this go._

"No," I said crossly. "The Marks are only part of it. There are tests, ordeals, levels of training—look, just forget it, okay?" I sighed. "Stay away from my blades. In fact, don't touch any of my weapons without my permission."

She threw up her hands. "Well, there goes my plan for selling them all on eBay," she muttered.

"Selling them on _what?"_

She smiled dryly. "A mythical place of great magical power."

_What? _I shrugged, indifferent. "Most myths are true, at least in part."

"I'm starting to get that."

The gypsy's head popped through the beads again. "Tea's on the table," she drawled. "There's no need for you two to keep standing there like donkeys. Come into the parlor."

"There's a parlor?" Clary asked in disbelief.

"Of course there's a parlor," stated Dorothea. "Where else would I entertain?"

I smirked, "I'll just leave my hat with the footman."

She scowled at me. "If you were half as funny as you thought you were, my boy, you'd be twice as funny as you are." With a loud 'Humph!' she disappeared through the beads again.

I frowned. "I'm not quite sure what she meant by that."

"Really," Clary questioned. "It made perfect sense to me." She stalked through the beads before I could reply.

Shaking my head, I stepped through the curtain. The 'parlor' was decorated with dead stuffed animals hanging on wire cords. Ragged Persian rugs layered the floor, in colors from electric green to dangerously dark purples. Fat pink chairs dwarfed a short coffee table: a large deck of tarot cards adorned in black ribbon sat at one end, while a large crystal ball sat at the other. And in the middle was a silver tea tray holding a neat pyramid of sandwiches, with a small blue teapot beside it. The room itself was slightly nauseating.

"Wow, this looks great." Clary said as she sat down in one of the fat pink chairs.

I sighed, sitting down next to Clary. _This is what I must lower myself to, a pink chair?_

Dorothea smiled, gesturing to the teapot. "Have some tea. Milk? Sugar?"

Suddenly hungry, I reached for the sandwich plate.

"Sugar," she mumbled.

I plucked a triangle from the plate. Frowning, I bit into it. Mayonnaise, pepper, and… _was that cucumber? Ugh, _I shuddered, swallowing it anyway.

Clary was staring hungrily at the sandwich. "Cucumber," I stated.

"I always think cucumber sandwiches are just the thing for tea, don't you?" The gypsy questioned.

"I hate cucumber." I said, passing the repulsive triangle to Clary.

She bit into it, looking satisfied. "Cucumber and bergamot, is there anything else you hate that I ought to know about?"

I quietly sipped my tea before saying, "Liars."

Dorothea frowned while setting the teapot down. "You can call me a liar all you like. It's true, I'm not a witch. But my mother was."

I choked on my tea. "That's impossible."

"Why impossible?" Clary questioned.

_Again with the explaining._ "Because they're half-human, half-demon. All witches and warlocks are crossbreeds. And because they're crossbreeds, they can't have children. They're sterile."

"Like mules," Clary said thoughtfully. "Mules are sterile crossbreeds."

Smirking I said, "your knowledge of livestock is astounding. All Downworlders are in some part demon, but only warlocks are the children of demon parents. It's why their powers are the strongest."

"Vampires and werewolves—they're part demon too? And faeries?"

She never failed to continuously question something. "Vampires and werewolves are the result diseases brought by demons from their home dimensions. Most demon diseases are deadly to humans, but in these cases they worked strange cases on the infected, without actually killing them. And faeries—"

The gypsy cut in, "faeries are fallen angels cast out of heaven for their pride."

"That's the legend. It's also said that they're the offspring of demons and angels, which always seemed more likely to me. Good and evil, mixing together. Faeries are as beautiful as angels are supposed to be and, but they have a lot of mischief and cruelty in them. And you'll notice most of them avoid midday sunlight—"

I scowled as the gypsy interrupted my speech. "For the devil has no power, except in the dark."

"'Supposed to be?' You mean angels don't—"

"Enough about angels," Dorothea snapped. "It's true that warlocks can't have children. My mother adopted me because she wanted to make sure there'd be someone to attend this place after she was gone. I don't have to master magic myself. I have only to watch and guard."

"Guard what?" Clary questioned.

"What indeed?" She winked and reached for the sandwich plate, seeing there was none left. "It's good to see a young woman eat her fill. In my day, girls were robust, strapping creatures, not twigs like they are nowadays."

_Well I like twigs; _I smirked, looking at Clary.

Clary frowned, "thanks." She set her cup down with a clatter.

Dorothea snatched Clary's cup.

"What? Did I crack the cup or something?" Clary asked nervously.

I fought the urge to yawn. "She's reading your tea leaves."

"Is it bad?" She asked.

Dorothea scowled. "It is neither bad nor good. It is confusing." She looked up and demanded. "Give me _your _cup."

"But I'm not done with my—"

She snatched the cup away from me and dumped the tea back into the pot. Her mouth turned down, "I see violence in your future." _Of course._ "A great deal of blood shed by you and others." _Makes sense. _"You'll fall in love with the wrong person." I couldn't help but momentarily glance at Clary. "Also, you have an enemy."

I smiled, leaning back in the pink chair. "Only one? That's good news."

Dorothea shook her head at Clary's cup. "There is nothing for me to read here. The images are jumbled, meaningless." She raised an eyebrow at Clary. "Is there a block in your mind?

"A what?"

The gypsy sighed. "Like a spell that might conceal a memory, or might have blocked out your Sight."

Shaking her head, Clary said, "no, of course not."

I leaned forward suddenly very interested. _That could be a possibility. And why had I never thought of it before?_ "Don't be so hasty. It's true that she claims not to remember having had the Sight before this week. Maybe—"

"Maybe I'm just a late developer. And don't _leer_ at me, just because I said that."

Assuming an appalled air, I said, "I wasn't going to."

"You were working up to a leer, I could tell."

"Maybe," I said thoughtfully. "But that doesn't mean I'm not right. Something's blocking your memories, I'm almost sure of it."

"Very well, let's try something else." Dorothea set the cup down and fanned out the glossy tarot cards. "Slide your hand over these until you touch one that feels hot or cold, or seems to cling your fingers. Then draw that one and show it to me."

Clary obediently smoothed her fingers over the cards. She began to frown before grasping one and holding it up. "The Ace of Cups. The love card."

On the card was a golden cup laden with rubies. "This is a good card, right?" She asked nervously.

"Not necessarily. The most terrible men do, they do in the name of love." Dorothea's eyes glinted in my direction. "But it is a powerful card. What does it mean to you?"

"That my mother painted it," Clary stated. "She did, didn't she?"

Dorothea smiled and nodded. "She painted the whole pack. A gift for me."

I frowned, something was not right. "So you say. How well did you know Clary's mother?"

Clary looked up at me. "Jace, you don't have to—"

The gypsy leaned back in her chair. "Jocelyn knew what I was, and I knew what she was. We didn't talk about it much. Sometimes she did favors for me—like painting this pack of cards—and in return I'd tell her the occasional piece of Downworlder gossip. There was a name she asked me to keep an ear out for, and I did."

I had an odd feeling I knew who it was. "What name was that?"

"Valentine."

Clary sat up in her chair, looking as if she was electrocuted. "But that's—"

"And when you say you knew what Jocelyn was, what do you mean? What was she?"

The gypsy smirked, seeming amused. "Jocelyn was what she was. But in her past she'd been like you. A Shadowhunter. One of the Clave."

_Yes, I knew I was right._

"No," Clary whispered through pale lips.

Dorothea pitifully looked to Clary. "It's true. She chose to live in this house precisely because—"

"Because this is a Sanctuary. Isn't it? Your mother was a Control. She made this space, hidden, protected—it's a perfect spot for Downworlders on the run to hide out. That's what you do, isn't it? You hide criminals here."

"You _would _call them that," she hissed at me. "You're familiar with the motto of the Covenant?"

"_Sed lex dura lex," _I recited. "The Law is hard, but it is the Law."

"Sometimes the Law is too hard. I know the Clave would have taken me away from my mother if they could. You want me to let them do the same to others?"

My lip curled, "so you're a philanthropist. I suppose you expect me to believe that Downworlders don't pay you handsomely for the privilege of your Sanctuary?"

"We can't all get by on our looks like you." She grinned, revealing two rows of golden teeth.

I frowned, "I should tell the Clave about you—"

Clary jumped up. "You can't! You promised."

It hurt to look away with those green eyes staring eagerly up at me. "I never promised anything." I crossed the room and tore aside the velvet curtain, revealing just what I thought was there. "Can you tell me what this is?"

In the wall was a dusty brass door. It was normal enough, if you look past the peculiar glow and eye-shaped handle. "It's a door, Jace," Clary sighed.

"Shut up," I snapped, looking away from her. "It's a Portal. Isn't it?"

"It's a five-dimensional door. Dimensions aren't all straight lines, you know," Dorothea said to Clary. "There are dips and folds and nooks and crannies all tucked away. It's a bit hard to explain when you've never studied dimensional theory, but, in essence, that door can take you anywhere in this dimension that you want to go. It's—"

"An escape hatch," _of course. _"That's why your mother wanted to live here. So she could always flee at a moment's notice."

"Then why didn't she—" Clary began, but stopped. "Because of me. She wouldn't leave without me that night. So she stayed."

I shook my head. "You can't blame yourself."

Her eyes glistened and I felt the urge to hug her again. She covered her face; pushing past me towards the door. "I want to see where she would have gone," she reached for the door. "I want to see where she was going to escape to—"

"Clary, no!" I yelled, but I was already too late. The door opened with a gust of wind, sucking Clary into it. Dorothea cried out for her.

But I ran through the door, not thinking of the consequences that would follow.

I was only thinking of Clary.

**Remember to review and let me know how I am doing. :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**I am so sorry for the delay of this chapter. My lovely****computer crash****ed...**** I was so sad, I had lost ALL my files and I had to rewrite the beginning of this one. But I finished it so here it is… And of course credit goes to Miss Clare :)**

Chapter 8

Falling through empty space was an odd sensation. It was the first time I had been through a Portal, or at least from what I remembered. The wind roared in my ears and stung my precious face.

I had not seen Clary since she leaped through the Portal and that worried me. She could be miles away from where I may fall. We could be separated by states. I shook my head, willing myself not to believe it. Dark blue sky rose around me. The air filled with salt and the familiar smell of Manhattan. I could see the dark shadows of trees and lakes. Every second the greenery hurtled closer. A pine tree came into view. Twisting to the side, I narrowly avoided a branch that could have sliced my shoulder open. I gasped as I noticed the shock of red hair on the ground less than a hundred feet below me. Clary was lying on her side, trying to sit up.

A second later I fell, pinning her back to the ground. Our foreheads smacked together while her legs tangled with mine. Her elbow stabbed my side. "Ouch," I dramatically whispered in her ear. "You elbowed me."

"Well you _landed_ on me," she hissed.

Leveling my weight on my arms, I looked down. My breath sped at the sight below me. I couldn't help but notice the _compromising _position I was in. But that wasn't what made me stutter. The flames of Clary's hair was fanned around her face perfectly. Dirt was flecked across her small nose and pale cheeks, making her look younger. Her pink lips were slightly parted as her breath warmed the side of my cheek. The green of her eyes matched the forest around us. They pierced me underneath long, light brown lashes. I was momentarily irked as I noticed that she didn't wear make-up. Clary was naturally beautiful and I was pleased that she didn't pack on unnecessary layers of powders.

I smirked, she obviously didn't need it.

I mentally shook myself, remembering our discussion. "Well, you didn't leave me much choice, did you? Not after you decided to leap merrily through that Portal you were jumping the F train." She narrowed her eyes. "You're just lucky it didn't dump us out in the East River."

"You didn't have to come after me." The true belief that I wouldn't have followed shone sadly in her eyes. It stung more than anything else she had ever said to me.

"Yes, I did," I stated, meeting her gaze with all seriousness. "You're far too inexperienced to protect yourself in a hostile situation without me." I smirked, lightening the mood once more.

She rolled her eyes. "That's sweet. Maybe I'll forgive you."

"Forgive me? For what?"

"For telling me to shut up."

_Oh, that. _"I did not…Well, I did, but you were-"

"Never mind." She twisted under me, freeing her arm and froze. "I know where we are."

I stopped stuttering. "What?"

"This is Luke's house." She sat up, pushing me to the side. I rolled and skillfully jumped to my feet. She ignored my outstretched hand as I offered it to her.

Looking up, we stood in front of a small gray house. It was squeezed between other row houses identical to it. A salty breeze blew off the East River, causing the sign in front of the house to sway. "_Garroway Books. Fine Used, New, and Out-of-Print. Closed Saturdays." _I glanced at the front door, its knob burdened with a heavy padlock. By the looks of it, a few days mail was piled on the doormat, deserted. "He lives in a bookstore?" I said, turning to Clary.

"He lives behind the store." She glanced at the street, checking both ways for any signs of life. One end was arched the width of the Williamsburg Bridge, while the other had a sugar factory residing on the vacant lot. The skyscrapers of Manhattan stood proud in the in the pink setting glow of the sun.

"Jace, how did we get here?"

"Through the Portal," I said, while examining the rusted padlock. "It takes you to whatever place you're thinking of."

"But I wasn't thinking here," she said feebly. "I wasn't thinking of anywhere."

"You must have been." My tone making it final. "So, since we're here anyway…"

"Yeah?"

"What do you want to do?"

"Leave I guess," she said bitterly. "Luke told me to not come here."

I couldn't believe it. _This _girl was just going to _accept _that? "And you accept that?" I said while shaking my head.

Clary wrapped her thin arms around her shoulders. I would have offered her something to keep warm, but then I would have no shirt. I internally smirked, not that _that _would be a problem… "Do I have a choice?" She asked, interrupting my inner monologue.

"We always have choices," I said truthfully. "If I were you, I'd be pretty curious about Luke right now. Do you have keys to the house?" It's not that I personally _wanted_ to break into this man's house, but maybe I could find some information about Clary's past.

"No, but sometimes he leaves the back door unlocked." She gestured to the narrow alley between Luke's house and the next. Glass bottles and wrinkled newspapers were neatly stacked beside the back door. _God, he needs help..._

"You sure he isn't home?"

Clary glanced at the empty curb. "Well, his truck's gone, the store's closed, and all the lights are off. I'd say probably not."

"Then lead the way."

The narrow alleyway stopped at a high chain-link fence. It encircled a small garden with weeds bursting through cracks in the pavement. "Up and over." I said, kicking a short gap in the fence. The fence rattled loudly as I mounted it. Clary nervously looked around, but I would be surprised to even see a rat, let alone a human being. I landed in the bushes with a thud as someone howled.

"What the f-" I shouted in surprise and fell backward. A lanky shadow leaped out from behind the bush and scampered across the yard. I stared maliciously in its direction and rolled to my feet, ready to make the little bastard pay.

A few seconds later I snatched his arms and tied them behind his back on the ground. "Got him!" I yelled victoriously. "Come on, let's see your face-"

"Get the hell off me, you pretentious asshole," the voice was annoyingly familiar. He managed a sitting position, only because I let him.

_"Simon?" _Clary stopped in her tracks.

_Ugh. _"Oh, God," I rolled my eyes. "And here I'd actually hoped I'd got hold of something interesting."

~oOo~

"But what were you doing hiding in Luke's bushes?" Clary was brushing leaves out of the _rat boy's_ hair. "That's the part I don't get." I pretended to studiously ignore the two of them from the back porch railing while filing my the ends of my fingernails with my stele. This must have been my _ultimate_ low. The last time I saw this kid, he was tripping over his own tongue just trying to admit his love for Clary.

"All right, that's enough. I can fix my own hair, Fray." He said, pulling out of Clary's grasp.

"I mean, did Luke know you were there?"

"Of course he didn't know I was there," he said irritably. "I've never asked him, but I'm sure he has a fairly stringent policy about random teenagers lurking around his shrubbery." _Oh, the dry humor of mundies. _

"You're not random; he knows you." I saw her fingers twitch slightly. "The main thing is that you're all right."

A few leaves fell from his hair as he shook his head. "That _I'm _all right?" He laughed cynically. "Clary, do you have any idea what I've been through this past couple of days?" _No, and I doubt she cares. _But I looked over and saw her earnestly staring at him. I pouted, _guess I'm alone on this one. _"The last time I saw you, you were running out of Java Jones," _after me, _I added smugly, "like a bat out of hell, and then you just… disappeared. You never picked up your cell-then your home phone was disconnected-then Luke told me you were off to staying with some relatives upstate when I_ know _you don't have any other relatives. I thought I'd done something to piss you off."

"What could you have possibly have done?" I filed my nail my too short as Clary reached for his hand. But the idiot pulled back, not looking at her.

"I don't know. Something." He said, staring at his hands through his large glasses.

I chuckled, feeling like I was watching a mundie film, and a pathectic excuse for one at that. Izzy had forced me to watch once for hiding everything she needed in the pantry to make "dinner" . It was childish, but I had no other ideas. Clary glanced at me for a second, but quickly moved her gaze back to the kid. "You're my best friend, I wasn't mad at you." She said, trying to soothe him.

"Yeah, well, you clearly also couldn't be bothered to call me and tell me you were shacking up with some dyed-blond wanna-be goth you probably met at Pandemonium," he viscously spat. I rolled my eyes, _jealous of me now, little boy? I can find plenty of things to say about you. Rat. He did resemble one. Hmm, rat boy. Has a nice ring to it. _"After I spent the past three days wondering if you were _dead._"

"I was not shacking up." Her cheeks brightened to a lovely shade of pink.

"And my hair is naturally blond," I said, meeting rat boy's black eyes. "Just for the record."

"So what have you been doing for the past three days, then?" His gaze suspiciously slipping from me to Clary. "Do you really have a great-aunt Matilda who contracted avian flu and needed to be nursed back to health?"

Clary looked appalled. "Did Luke actually say that?"

"No. He just said you had gone to visit a sick relative, and that your phone probably just didn't work out in the country." _It's not the worst excuse._ "Not that I believed him." I almost scoffed. "After he shooed me off his front porch, I went around the side of the house and looked in the back window." _Obsessive__, but alright._ "Watched him packing up a green duffel bag like he was going away for the weekend. That was when I decided to stick around and keep an eye on things."

"Why? Because he was packing a bag?" She smiled at him.

"He was packing it full of weapons." That pricked my interest. He rubbed at the blood on his cheek. "Knives, a couple daggers, even a sword. Funny thing is, some of the weapons looked like they were glowing." Now that was more than odd. His gaze slipped from Clary to me. "Now, are you going to say I was imagining it?"

"No," Clary said. "I'm not going to say that." She narrowed her evergreen eyes at me, I smirked. "I'm going to tell him the truth."

"I know." _If __Alec__ finds out…_

"Are you going to try to stop me?" She tried to raise an eyebrow.

"My oath to the Covenant binds me. No such oath bounds you." I said, meeting her gaze with pure honesty coloring my tone.

"All right," she took a deep breath. "Here's what you have to know."

~oOo~

Night had fallen once the sun had drifted beyond the horizon. The porch was enclosed in its own bubble of darkness, only the outlines of Clary and the kid were visible. She had just finished her side of the story, from the first moment we met to how we got here. I tightened my grip on the stele when she got to the Ravener demon. She skimmed over the details of how we got to the Institute, its not her fault she was unconscious. But nevertheless it was quite a tale. She cleared her throat, her voice dry. "So, any questions?"

He held his hand up high. What an imbecile. _Of course, you have questions. _"Oh, I've got questions. Several."

Clary sighed. "Okay, shoot."

He pointed at me. I was about to ask if his mother ever told him how rude it was to point fingers but he said, "Now, he's a-what do you call people like him again?"

"He's a Shadowhunter," she said.

"A demon hunter," I clarified. "I kill demons. It's not that complicated, really."

His eyes narrowed, as if he thought Clary lied to him. "For real?"

"For real."

He frowned, calculating. "And there are vampires, too? Werewolves, warlocks, all that stuff?"

Clary bit her lip. "So I hear."

His eyes lit up. "And you kill them too?"

I slid the stele back into my pocket. "Only when they have been naughty."

The kid looked down at his worn sneakers. And just as Clary leaned forward, looking anxious, he looked up. Their gazes met and they were less than six inches apart. I studied my fingers more closely, as if I could find the answers to the world in them. "That is _so awesome_," he said, and I was momentarily reminded of Max.

"Awesome?"

"Totally. It's like Dungeons and Dragons, but _real._"

I stared at him like I would a bug crawling on my shoe. "It's like what?"

"It's a game," Clary said exasperatedly. _Wonderful,_ I shouldn't be surprised Clary would relate to his mundie speak. "People pretend to be wizards and elves, and they kill monsters and stuff."

_What? _My confusion must have shown too clearly on my face because the kid asked, "You've never heard of Dungeons and Dragons?"

"I've heard of dungeons," I stated, just pleased to understand _something _of what they were saying. "Also dragons. Although they're mostly extinct."

He frowned, looking slightly disappointed. "You've never killed a dragon?"

"He's probably never met a six-foot-tall hot elf-woman in a fur bikini, either," Clary snapped. "Lay off, Simon."

I smirked. "Real elves are about eight inches tall. Also, they bite."

"But vampires are hot, right?" he questioned eagerly. "I mean, some of the vampires are babes, aren't they?"

Considering that, I thought back to the many attractive vampires I had seen in my time. But I looked at Clary which caused any comparison to vanish. They were all too pale and pretentious, not my type. "Some of them, maybe."

"_Awesome,_" he practically drooled. His presence was grating my nerves.

Sliding off the porch rail, I fought the urge to yawn, not that I wasn't just _thrilled_ to be chatting it up about vampire _babes _with a kid I detested more than dirt. I was bored and wanted to do something other than watch him drool. "So are we going to search the house, or not?

"I'm game. What are we looking for?" He scrambled to his feet, reminding me of a starving rat.

"We?" I asked, my voice edged with glass. "I don't remember inviting you along."

"_Jace,_" Clary snapped.

The side of my lip curled up. Her tone was so dangerously cute, I couldn't help it. "Just joking," I stepped aside, leaving room to the door. "Shall we?"

Clary fumbled with the doorknob, causing the porch light to flicker on. I still had trouble understanding some of these mundie inventions. "It's locked," she said after a few seconds more of tearing at the lock.

"Allow me, mundanes." Clary glowered at me as I knew she would.

I heard the mundie speak as I investigated the door. "He's a piece of work, isn't he?" I could feel his eyes burning into my back, it only made me smile. "How do you stand him?"

"He saved my life," she stated clearly.

"How-"

With the slice of my stele, the door clicked open. "Here we go," I slid the stele back into my belt. The opening rune faded as we crossed under the door, with _rat boy_ in tow.

I was greeted by row after row crowded with stacks of cardboard boxes. Some boxes were empty, while others were being crushed by the books it contained. Each box had a different genre scrawled in large black letters on its side. "Fiction," "Poetry," "Cooking," "Local Interest," I smirked, "romance." I had once attempted to read a mundie romance novel. Another punishment of Izzy's. The characters were horribly bland and ignorant, too mundane for my taste.

"The apartment's through there." Clary started toward the door at the farthest end of the room.

"Wait," I snagged her arm. On the other side of the room, I noticed a few boxes too bulky to be containing any books.

She glanced up at me, "Is something wrong?"

"I don't know." I released her arm, weaving through the sea of boxes then whistled as I came upon a wall. "Clary, you might want to come over here and see this."

"It's so dark-," she said blinking.

The kid stumbled along behind her. He scowled as I raised my witchlight, brightening the room in a brilliant white glow. "Ouch," he mumbled.

I almost snickered. They cowered below, away from the glowing stone in the palm of my hand. "Witchlight."

He murmured something under his breath that was along the lines of, _"whichlight my ass…" _Clary pushed through the waves of books toward me. I gestured to the wall, impatient with her pace. "Look at that." The ends of menacing, rusted manacles were drilled into the wall. Practically begging to be noticed. She gasped, "Are those-"

"Manacles," the kid cut in. "That's, ah…"

"Don't say 'kinky.'" She glared at him. "This is Luke we're talking about."

As I picked up one of the manacle chains, I noticed something that was too dark to be rust. Blood dusted my fingers. "Blood. And look." The plaster had cracked where the chain met the wall. "Someone tried to yank these things out of the wall. Tried pretty hard, from the looks of it."

Clary stared intently at the cracks. "Do you think Luke is all right?"

I lowered my witchlight, the concern plain in her expression. "I think we'd better find out."

~oOo~

The apartment door was unlocked. We were greeted by more books, endless shelves of them. Books sprouted up in stacks like weeds from floor to ceiling. The stench of decaying paper and mildew was revolting. How could one person own so many books? Hodge had too many books as it was, but at least they were organized.

Rat boy scurried into the kitchen and called out none too quietly, "I think he's still around." He poked his head back around the door. "The percolator's on and there's coffee here. Still hot."

Clary glanced at the kitchen and turned down the hallway. I wasn't sure if I should follow, but decided against it. Though, that left me with _him_. He stood in front of me, his eyes narrowed. I smirked, but he only rolled his eyes and walked back into the kitchen. In another book packed room a green duffel bag sat on the desk. It was the small spark of shine in the bag that caught my attention. As I drew closer I knew just where that shine came from, weapons.

There was a large assortment of blades. Some short, but wide and heavily sheathed to bare, thin blades the length of my arm. Retractable pocket knives covered in dirt and grime were scattered throughout the bag. I sifted deeper, soon noticing how none of the weapons were made of silver. They were either steel or titanium. Titanium was rare, how could a common book salesman obtain it? Interesting. Buried heavily beneath all the different blades was a tightly coiled whip, similar to Izzy's except it was made of titanium. Beside it was a picture in a cracked frame of a younger Clary, a small red-haired woman who I assumed to be her mother and a tall, broad shouldered man with glasses who might have been Luke. I set the picture back in the bag, momentarily distracted. Clary stumbled over mounds of books as I examined a razor-edged _chakhram_.

She stared questionably at the steel disk. "It's a _chakhram._" I looked up, meeting her pretty eyes. She had changed from Izzy's oversized tank top and jeans to a pair of her own form-fitting pants and blue tank top with Chinese characters scrawled across the front. She always seemed so relaxed, calm, I liked it. She didn't try hard for attention like Izzy. "A Sikh weapon. You whirl it around your index finger before releasing it. They're rare and hard to use. Strange that Luke would have one. They used to be Hodge's weapon of choice, back in the day. Or so he tells me." It felt nice to tell her about the life I knew without an extra pair of eyes around to pry. I glanced behind me, just to make sure.

"Luke collects stuff. Art objects. You know," she gestured to the many regal statues of weapon brandishing women along with an ancient Chinese screen carved out of iridescent rosewood. "Pretty things." That reminded me… I carefully set aside the _chakhram _to dig out the photo. "I think this is yours, by the way."

"That _is _mine," she snatched it out of my grasp.

"It's cracked," I stated.

"I know. _I _did that-I smashed it. When I threw it at the Ravener demon." Her head snapped up, eyes bright with realization. "That means Luke's been back to the apartment since the attack. Maybe even today-"

"He must have been the last person to come through the Portal. That's why it took us here. You weren't thinking of anything, so it took us to the last place it had been." It was the best explanation.

She scowled, "Nice of Dorothea to tell us he was there."

"He probably paid her off to be quiet. Either that or she trusts him more than she trusts us. Which means he might not be-"

"Guys!" The kid raced to the office, his eyes bulging out of his head. "Someone's coming."

Clary's fingers loosened around the picture's frame. "Is it Luke?"

He looked back down the hall and frantically nodded. "It is. But he's not by himself-there are two men with him."

"Men?" I crossed the room in a few long strides to peer through a slit in the door, and spat a curse. "Warlocks."

Clary's lips formed a perfect _"o"_. "Warlocks? But-"

I looked around, desperate for an escape. I mentally cursed the house and shook my head. "Is there some other way out of here? A back door?" Her eyes widened as she feebly shook her head. I glanced around, desperately looking for _something. _My eyes found the rosewood screen. _By the Angel…_ "Get behind that." They didn't move. "_Now," _I growled.

Clary was the first to move. She dropped the damaged photo on the desk, dragging the kid along behind her. I quickly followed, my hand resting around the familiar shape of my stele. The door swung open not a moment after I had concealed myself behind the screen.

I raised the tip of my stele to the screen and drew a large rectangle. The kid was too close for comfort as he breathed heavily down my neck. I resisted the urge to punch his pathetic face. I ground my teeth as I finished the last side of the rune. Clary bit her lip as I urged her to look through the window. She untangled her arm from his, which I chose to ignore, and peered through the panel.

Luke leaned heavily on the doorframe, looking stressed and exhausted. Dark circles were prominent beneath his red eyes. He raised his hand to pat his hair, only to re-adjust the glasses on his head. I glanced at Clary, she was frowning as she watched him.

He sighed and graciously held the door open. "Yes, feel free to look around," his tone coated with sarcasm. "Nice of you to show such an interest."

A deep chuckle rumbled from a far corner of the room. I impatiently tapped the frame of the rune, it widened exposing the culprit. Two warlocks clothed in identical burgundy robes strolled around the room, looking at nothing in particular. Their backs were to us but they both seemed oddly familiar. They turned and I knew exactly why they were so familiar.

They killed my father.

I froze, desperately holding onto what sanity I had left at that moment, which was not much. The blood in my veins boiled, causing my fingers to curl around the hilt of my blade. _They_ were here, the spawns of hell responsible for killing my father. That day clouded my vision, making me dizzy. Clary whispered something, but I was already to far away to hear.

_I ran to the small alcove underneath the stairs as my father had ordered me to. He pushed me along when I didn't move right away. "Now." He firmly repeated, all the kindness of his tone gone. The insistent pounding on the door only grew louder as I climbed the stairs and ducked underneath them. My father bravely stood in front of the door, not cowering behind the stairs like a frightened rat. I wanted to run back out and bravely stand at my father's side. But the door crashed open, knocking into my father and causing him to fall. I pressed myself to the farthest corner of the stairs as it became hard to breathe. They entered my home as if it were their own. My father lay on the floor, blood speckled the ground around him. The men were strange. The first was tall, with a majestic gray mustache and pointed beard. He smiled at my father on the ground and revealed a long row of blindingly white teeth. The second was shorter than my father, but his muscles made up for his poor height. His purple skin was stretched so tightly across his face that it shined while his hair resembled the blood on the stone floor. Burgundy robes billowed around both and they each had a pair of st__ark __black eyes. They snickered, and the one with purple skin said something, but I only heard the sharp crackle of flames. The other one responded in the same dialect. Their fingers glowed an unnatural pallor. Bright green and yellow flames erupted from their fingertips and each threw a magnificent ball of fire at my father's lifeless form. I didn't want to watch, I wanted to turn__ hide behind my hands. B__ut I had to acknowledge my father's death, no matter how much it may hurt. It was the honorable thing to do. Their tongues spoke flames again and they looked up at the staircase. I stopped breathing, more scared than I had ever been in my life. The short, muscled one nudged the other. He turned and left as the tall, bearded one continued staring at the staircase. He narrowed his eyes momentarily, but swiftly turned to leave with his long robes flowing behind him. I didn't come out and I didn't dare move. I stayed in my hiding place under the stairs, cowering __like a __rat__.__ It was one of the__few times I had __truly__ cried in my life. But I had vowed to my father I would avenge his death. I had to._

There was no humor in my grin now. They could have at least changed their robes after so many years.

"Consider this a friendly follow-up, _Graymark," _the tall one sneered, exposing his razor edged teeth. That was his warlock's mark, I knew that now, teeth sharper than wolves.

"There's nothing friendly about you, Pangborn." Luke sat on the edge of the desk, hiding the green duffel bag from view. He was now close enough that I could see a long gash ran the length of his neck and veered down below his collar. His face and hands were severely bruised while his fingers were covered in dust and blood.

Clary held her bottom lip tightly between her teeth, bringing blood to the surface. She carefully watched his every move.

"Blackwell, don't touch that-it's valuable," he snapped.

Blackwell ignored him and picked it up. He ran his enormous fingers over it, almost smiling. "Nice."

"Ah," said Pangborn as he snatched the statue away from his _companion. _"She who was created to battle a demon who could not be killed by any god or man. 'Oh, Kali, my mother full of bliss! Enchantress of the almighty Shiva, in thy delirious joy thou dancest, clapping thy hands together. Thou art the Mover of all that moves, and we are but thy helpless toys.'" His voice crackled slightly by the end.

"Very nice," he said neutrally. "I didn't know you were a student of the Indian myths."

"All myths are true," _of course, _"or have you forgotten even that?" Pangborn raised a gray eyebrow.

"I forget nothing," his tone was relaxed, but the set of his shoulders said otherwise. "I suppose Valentine sent you?"

_Another mundane that knew of Valentine? Valentine is dead, we all know that. Yet… It made no sense. _

"He did," Pangborn twirled the statue between his elongated fingers. "He thought you might have changed your mind."

"There's nothing to change my mind about. I already told you I don't know anything." He tightly folded his arms across his chest. "Nice cloaks, by the way."

"Thanks," Blackwell said slyly. "Skinned them off a couple dead warlocks."

"Those are official Accord robes, aren't they?" He raised a brow. "Are they from the Uprising?"

Pangborn chuckled under his breath. "Spoils of battle."

"Aren't you afraid someone might mistake you for the real thing?"

"Not once they get up close," said Blackwell.

Pangborn casually twisted the edge of his robe. "Do you remember the Uprising, Lucian?" _He knows of the Uprising?_ "That was a great and terrible day. Do you remember how we trained together for the battle?"

Luke frowned and tipped his head downward. "The past is the past. I don't know what to tell you gentlemen." He raised his head, seeming to have regained his strength. "I can't help you now. I don't know anything."

They returned his gaze with the same acidic glare. "'Anything' is such a general word, so unspecific. Surely someone who owns so many books must know _something," _he gestured to the many books crowding the small room.

"If you want to know where to find a jog-toed swallow in springtime, I could direct you to the correct reference title," I smirked, he had played that well. "But if you want to know where the Mortal Cup has disappeared to…" I almost dropped my stele.

"Disappeared might not be the correct word," Pangborn muttered. "Hidden, more like. Hidden by Jocelyn." _Jocelyn…Clary's mother?_

Clary frowned and pushed closer to the glass, effectively forcing the kid closer to me. _Great… _His expression was ridiculous. The side of his nose was practically pressed against the panel, and I hope I was wrong, but there was saliva slowly dripping from the side of his open mouth. He raised his hand to wipe it away._ Disgusting._

"That may be," he said, weighing his options. "So hasn't she told you where it is yet?"

"She has not yet regained consciousness," he waved his thin hand in a casual gesture. "Valentine is disappointed. He was looking forward to their reunion."

"I'm sure she didn't reciprocate the sentiment," Luke mumbled.

Pangborn laughed, a high-pitched cackle. "Jealous, Graymark? Perhaps you no longer feel about her the way you _used _to."

I looked at Clary again to see her tightening her fingers around each other, her face was paler than normal.

Luke looked pained, but quickly recovered. "I have never felt any way about her, particularly. Two Shadowhunters, exiled from their own kind, you can see why we might have banded together. But I'm not going to try to interfere with Valentine's plans for her, if that's what he's worried about."

"I wouldn't say he was worried," Pangborn sneered. "More curious. We all wondered if you were still alive. Still recognizably human."

Luke raised his eyebrows. "And?"

"You seem well enough," he said reluctantly and set the statue down. He met Luke with a sinister stare. "There was a child, wasn't there? A girl."

"What?"

"Don't play dumb," he snarled. "We know the bitch had a daughter. They found photos of her in the apartment, a bedroom-"

He tensed and shrugged. "I thought you were asking about children of mine. Yes, Jocelyn had a daughter. Clarissa. I assume she's run off. Did Valentine send you to find her?"

_Clary? Why is he telling them about her? _The kid tore his face away from the panel, raising his dark eyebrows as he readjusted his glasses. Clary was still paler than normal.

"Not us, but he is looking." His look was calculating, as if he was trying to find something else in Luke's words.

"We could search this place," Blackwell grumbled. I swallowed, _no. _He edged toward the screen. I tightened my grip on my stele.

"I wouldn't advise it," said Luke as he slid off the desk. His eyes darkened menacingly as he watched them. "What makes you think she's still alive? I thought Valentine sent Raveners to scour the place. Enough Ravener poison, and most people will crumble away to ashes, leave no trace behind." The cold memories of Clary bleeding on the floor tugged at my mind, I pushed them away.

"There was a dead Ravener. It made Valentine suspicious." Pangborn frowned at Blackwell as he poked around the bookshelves.

"Everything makes Valentine suspicious. Maybe Jocelyn killed it. She was certainly capable."

Blackwell growled, finished with sniffing through stacks of books. "Maybe."

"Look, I've got no idea where the girl is, but for what it's worth, I'd guess she's dead. She'd have turned up by now otherwise," he shrugged. "Anyway, she's not much of a danger. She's fifteen years old, she's never heard of Valentine, and she doesn't believe in demons." _At least he was trying to protect he__r__. _

Pangborn chuckled, "A fortunate child."

"Not anymore."

Blackwell raised a red brow. "You sound angry, Lucian."

"I'm not angry, I'm exasperated. I'm not planning on interfering with Valentine's plans, do you understand that? I'm not a fool."

"Really?" Blackwell seethed sarcasm. "It's nice to see that you've developed a healthy respect for your own skin over the years, Lucian. You weren't always so pragmatic."

Pangborn smoothed the frayed ends of his beard. "You do know that we'd trade her, Jocelyn, for the Cup? Safely delivered, right to your door. That's a promise from Valentine himself."

"I know," he hung his head, but raised it a moment later. "I'm not interested. I don't know where your precious Cup is, and I don't want to get involved in your politics. I hate Valentine," _agreed, _"but I respect him." I frowned. "I know he'll mow down everyone in his path. I intend to be out of his way when it happens. He's a monster-a killing machine." He spat the last few words as if they burned his throat.

"Look who's talking," Blackwell growled.

"I take it these are your preparations for removing yourself from Valentine's path?" Pangborn extended a pale bony finger toward the open bag. "Getting out of town, Lucian?"

He nodded slowly, his tone wary. "Going to the country. I plan to lay low for a while."

"We could stop you, make you stay," said Blackwell.

For the first time tonight he smiled. He looked like the man from the framed picture with Clary's mother. His face was light, cheerful, and truly happy then. The corners of his mouth still formed the same wide grin, but there was something vicious behind his eyes. "You could try."

Pangborn cautiously glanced at Blackwell, who only shook his head. He turned back toward Luke. "You'll notify us if you experience any sudden memory resurgence?"

"You'll be first on my list to call."

He silently nodded, seeing it was tense. "I suppose we'll take our leave. The Angel guard you, Lucian."

"The Angel does not guard those like me." He tied his bag closed. _Who was this man? Was he a warlock? _I glanced at him again,_ it seems unlikely. There are no obvious signs of warlock heritage. That didn't mean much though… _"On your way, gentlemen?"

The warlocks pulled their red hoods back up, hiding their ghastly faces. Luke followed, but paused at the door and scanned the room for something. He shook his head and closed the door as he left.

I sighed, relived that I no longer had to watch the "men" who killed my father.

My muscles were tense from gripping my stele too hard. _It made sense now, well, some of it did. Luke, whatever he was, must have known Valentine at one time. These men were Valentine's servants, minions, whichever and they were sent to find the Mortal Cup. And Valentine is obviously still alive if he is giving so-called orders. But how can he still be living? I thought he was killed in the Uprising. Never mind, the demon was sent after Clary's mother, who was exiled from Shadowhunter country for Angel knows what, along with Luke. She had the Cup, and may still have it. Clary…she is a Shadowhunter, she must have the heritage. I was right. Ah, I was right! _

Clary stayed frozen as Luke locked the front door. Her face was still pale and her green eyes resembled a startled owl's. I would have laughed in any other circumstance. Her bottom lip was bright red from being held between her teeth for too long. She clasped her hands together, cutting off the circulation.

"Clary?" The kid gently laid his hand on her shoulder, his voice hesitant. "Are you okay?"

I ground my teeth. _How could she be okay after that? Moronic mundie. _

She looked ill as she mutely shook her head.

"Of course she isn't." I sharply moved the screen aside and snapped, my voice colder than it should have been. "At least now we know who would send a demon after your mother. Those men think she has the Mortal Cup."

Her lips thinned as she scowled. "That's totally ridiculous _and _impossible."

"Maybe," I said, leaning against Luke's desk. "Have you ever seen those men before?"

She shook her head, "No. Never."

"Lucian seemed to know them. To be friendly with them."

"I wouldn't say friendly," I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at him. "I'd say they were suppressing their hostility."

_I most certainly am. _"They didn't kill him outright. They think he know's more than he's telling."

"Maybe, or maybe they're just reluctant to kill another Shadowhunter," Clary said.

I laughed, a harsh and cynical sound that caused Clary to cringe. "I doubt that."

The anger behind her pretty eyes made my pulse quicken. "What makes you so sure? Do you know them?"

_The blood of my father's dead body covered the floor. My hiding place behind the stairs, the only thing keeping me from them. _"Do I know them?" The humor vanished from my voice. "You might say that. Those are the men who murdered my father."

**Thanks for reading!**


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